


She's the One

by ultradaniblonde



Category: Archie Comics, Riverdale (TV 2017), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, CEO Dean Winchester, Cheating, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Former Serpent Queen, John Winchester Being an Asshole, Lawyer Sam Winchester, M/M, Mild Language, Protective Dean Winchester, Slow Burn, Smut, Southside Serpent Cheryl Blossom, Thunder and Lightning, Veronica Lodge & Kevin Keller Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-10-03 03:58:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17276654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultradaniblonde/pseuds/ultradaniblonde
Summary: Dean Winchester, CEO of Winchester Consulting, offers you two million dollars to pretend to be his girlfriend at a company retreat (family reunion). When an attempt is made on your life and the lives of Dean’s family members will you continue the ruse to draw out the assailant?Yes. The answer is yes. Except you aren't just anyone. You are the daughter of Hiram Lodge and tenacious as ever.





	1. Chapter 1

Winchester Consulting is on the precipice of becoming one of the most prestigious consulting firms in the United States. The deluge of financial institutions compromising personal information, doling out bonuses for false accounts and loaning funds to anyone with a pulse, sparked rampant public outcry and Winchester Consulting was cleaning up the mess. As Director of Marketing and Public Relations, every move from your office was calculated. Every press release, advertisement and charitable donation carefully executed to deflect the hundreds of millions of dollars made year after year from the thousands of Americans defrauded. Your colleagues called you obsessive, but at twenty-eight you were the youngest director in the organization and you had no intention of slowing down.

The trajectory of your career was not without pitfalls. Poor decisions after college taught you image is everything. Fired from your entry level position at an interior design agency, you swallowed your pride, accepted a job at your dad’s company and went back to school. Graduating with top honors from your MBA program you reinvented yourself leveraging the polish from your extravagant east coast education with the grit and determination to roll up your sleeves and get to work. The result was an intelligent, poised, beautiful young woman, or at least that was what Dean saw.

“Her,” Dean mutters to his brother Sam as you walk towards your office.

“Veronica?” Sam asks.

“She's the one,” Dean repeats, “Set it up,” he orders earning a sigh from his younger brother.

Dean Winchester, CEO and heir of Winchester Consulting was a formidable man. Stubborn, results driven and blunt, he left little room for failure. His brother, a member of the legal team, was much more personable often finding himself softening Dean’s brusque personality.

“Be right back,” Sam says making his way to your office.

“Veronica?” Sam interrupts with a knock.

“Good Morning, Sam,” you greet smiling at him over your shoulder. You finish filing a piece of paperwork and gesture for him to take a seat, “How can I help you?” you ask.

“Actually, if you could come with me. Dean and I need to speak to you in private,” he responds.

“Of course,” you say neutrally grabbing your portfolio.

“Oh, you won’t need that,” Sam interjects.

You resist the urge to tilt your head to the side questioningly, a reflex you consciously suppress and instead say, “Of course,” leaving the portfolio on your desk.

You follow Sam into Dean’s office. It is the type of office you dream about at night: a large black leather sofa, mahogany conference room table that easily seats twelve, and matching desk. Floor to ceiling windows offer a view of the bustling city below which is exactly where you find Dean. You wonder why the Chief of Marketing and Public Relations isn’t present, but dismiss the thought when Dean turns around. Sam quietly closes the door and you stare at Dean with a blank expression waiting for him to begin.

“Sammy,” he says expectantly as Sam leans against Dean’s desk with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Before we continue, Dean and I would like to you sign a non-disclosure agreement. It essentially states that the conversation about to occur will not be divulged in any manner and failure to comply will result in legal action,” Sam says with a serious expression.

This can’t be good, you think to yourself. You clench your jaw in irritation. Could you really refuse and walk out of the office without any repercussions? You employ your controlled breathing techniques and smile through your clenched jaw. “Of course,” you answer beginning to feeling like a parrot.

Sam hands you a leather dossier and you are surprised when you find the exact statement printed on a single piece of paper. Quickly signing, you return the folder to Sam who passes it to Dean. Dean plucks a Montblanc from his suit jacket and signs on the line below your name.

“Great!” Sam says with a sigh visibly relaxed as he walks to the sofa and takes a seat. You resist the urge to cross your arms over your chest and stare at Dean waiting for him to continue. He watches you in silence as if coming to a decision.

“Every year Winchester Consulting hosts a retreat for major shareholders. Recently, significant concerns have been surfaced in regards to succession planning. As the name would suggest, Winchester Consulting is a family business. My brother, having recently married Jessica Moore, is unaffected by the stakeholders’ scrutiny, however I am not. I intend to assuage their apprehension by attending the retreat with a significant other,” he says curtly.

You stare at him as alarms ring in your ears.

“I intend to you bring you as my significant other,” Dean says slowly as if you are dimwitted.

“Oh, I understood,” you finally snap.

Sam chuckles from across the room and your eyes narrow at him. He clears his throat and stands plucking another file from Dean’s desk.

“You will be compensated for your services and provided a stipend for your expenses. There are a few stipulations, but I had Sam draw up a contract that isn’t inundated with legalize. I am sure you would like some time to think about it, but the offer is void once you step foot out of this office,” Dean says walking to the sidebar and pouring himself a glass of water, not bothering to offer you one.

Your pulse spikes in anger and you glare at Dean all pretense of professionalism vanished.

“It is a good offer,” Sam says gently. “I mean considering the fact that you have to pretend to be Dean’s girlfriend because he can’t get one himself,” Sam laughs.

The teasing in Sam’s voice makes you smile and you press your lips together holding back a laugh. “Damnit Sam, you know it isn’t that simple,” Dean grumbles.

You clear your throat, “Why isn’t it?” you probe.

“What?” Dean asks confused.

“Why isn’t it that simple?” you repeat.

“Dean’s dating life is non-existent and he is concerned that without proper precautions he will be blackmailed,” Sam volunteers.

“Why me?” you ask.

Dean adjusts his cuff, “Our mother can be relentless and as Sam mentioned, I don’t have time to date,”

“That’s not how he described it,” you interrupt sharing a chuckle with Sam.

“Regardless,” Dean continues, “The most plausible scenario is that I would have met someone at work. It isn’t just about being in a committed relationship, it is about finding someone who is suitable. A good match. You think the old man is going to leave me the company if I bring some floozy?” he says bitterly.

“Dean …” Sam begins in an admonishing tone.

“Review the contract. Sign it or don’t,” Dean orders before walking out the door, closing it with more force than necessary.

Sam sighs rubbing his temple with his hands. “At least look at the contract? I will order lunch and answer any questions I can,” he begs.

“Do you always court your brother’s fictitious girlfriends?” you ask sarcastically capitalizing on the fact that legally this conversation never occurred.

“A salad is the least I can do for being on the receiving end of that disastrous request for help,” he quips.

You shake your head before taking a seat at the conference table. “Let’s hear it, Winchester. What does a fake girlfriend pull these days?” you ask with a smile.

You sift through the contract in comfortable silence at ease with Sam’s light hearted nature. The numbers are staggering and you contemplate the deal. Lunch is delivered and you pop open the lid to your salad glancing up at Sam.

“Tell me about this retreat,” you ask.

“It is more a family reunion. What Dean failed to mention is that Winchester Consulting’s major shareholders are mostly relatives,” he says dumping dressing on his salad before closing the lid again.

“Has Dean brought anyone before?” you inquire.

“Once. He was engaged to the daughter of a business partner. They called the wedding off after he discovered she was in love with someone else. Technically, she called the wedding off. Dean offered to be the bad guy. I think he has been pretending to be the bad guy for so long, he has forgotten he isn’t,” Sam offers while shaking his salad vigorously.

“What about your parents?” you continue.

“They aren’t as bad as Dean makes them seem. Mom can be nosey, but all moms are nosey and Dean isn’t doing himself any favors with his prolonged bacherlorism. I guess I can see where he is coming from. If you are going to have a pretend girlfriend why not have her be as accomplished and poised as you?” he says subtlety.

“Are you hitting on me for your brother?” you tease.

“Yes. No. Please say you will go. Jessica is dreading the trip. It is a fair deal, I promise,” he insists.

“I want one clause added before I sign it,” you say.

“Okay…” Sam says hesitantly.

“I don’t want this to negatively impact my career. Under no circumstances will the events of this weekend impede or hinder my path to Chief of Marketing and Public Relations and when I separate from Winchester Consulting I want an honest recommendation for my professional accomplishments,” you assert.

“Done,” Sam agrees with a grin. “I thought you were going to ask for another million… I would have if I were you,” he says stabbing a piece of lettuce.

With the contact signed and lunch finished you stand ready to face the mountain of work you are sure is accumulating on your desk. “Jess is going to be thrilled when I tell her,” Sam says shaking your hand.

“I look forward to meeting her,” you say sincerely just as Dean walks into his office.

“You signed it. Good,” he says.

“Sam put together a compelling argument,” you respond.

“Good to know all those years at Stanford weren’t wasted,” Dean says patting Sam on the back.

“This isn’t really the type of negotiation I envisioned,” Sam jibes.

“Aww, Come on Sammy,” Dean says with a grin.

You watch Dean with his brother and take in his features. Laugh lines crinkle at the corners of his moss colored eyes speckled with gold. His strong tan jaw is covered in stubble. Only slightly shorter than Sam, he is broad chested with muscled arms. With pink plush lips, you resist the urge to roll your eyes at the unfairness of it.

Dean turns towards you, “Feel free to take the rest of the afternoon off. We leave tomorrow morning and I am sure you will need to purchase a few items. I made a list of things you might need,” he says reaching into his jacket pulling out an envelope stuffed with bills.

“Your stipend,” he explains, “And the list,” he says with a self-assured smile.

“The list. Thank you,” you nod with a fake smile masking your exasperation.  

You return to your desk, eye your inbox and you quickly respond to anything marked urgent before grabbing your coat and purse.

You spent hours at Nordstrom purchasing a new wardrobe. The attendant’s eyes nearly popped out of her head when you told her you needed clothes for an entire weekend. Begrudgingly, you opened the envelope and found Dean’s list. To his credit, it included clothes for specific activities that would have caught you completely off guard. You always purchased top of the line work clothes, but that was the problem. You only ever bought work clothes. Mulling over your earlier conversation with Dean, your pulse quickens in irritation. You take a deep breath as your footman opens the door for you and instead think about the money. Two million dollars. Repeating it over and over in your head like a mantra, you arrange your new wardrobe on the bed before cutting the tags and carefully packing. With nothing left to do, you sip tea staring out into the city enjoying your last hours of solitude.

Your alarm blares and you turn over and groan. Printed inside of the envelope was an itinerary indicating you would be leaving promptly at eight. You shower and wrestle with your wavy locks blow drying them before smoothing them with a flat iron. You apply a tasteful amount of makeup before sliding on black jeans, a gray knit sweater, black leather jacket and thick gray scarf. Sliding your feet into black wedge ankle boots you wheel your suitcase and handbag to the elevator. The Louis Vuitton tote you purchased hardly put a dent in the stipend Dean gave you and if you were being honest you had been eyeing it for a while.

When a black expedition pulls up, you watch Sam jump out. Dressed in jeans and a cowl necked sweater, you wonder if you have ever seen him in anything other then a suit. He extends his hand and the most gorgeous woman steps out. Tan, long limbed with blonde hair and brown eyes she smiles before pulling you into a hug. “Veronica!” she exclaims as if you are old friends. Your chin reaches her shoulder and she smells wonderful. Dressed in ripped jeans, caramel booties and a high necked forest green button down with ruffles, she and Sam make a beautiful couple.

“You must be Jessica,” you say with a smile.

“I am so glad you are joining us,” she says taking your arm.

Sam reaches for your bags and you ask, “Where is Dean?” with a confused look.

Sam and Jessica share a look. “Dean … decided he wanted to drive himself,” Sam says hesitantly. Your eyes narrow in exasperation at Sam. “I will talk to him when we stop,” Sam says defensively.

“I can tell you are a gem. I don’t know what Dean did to deserve you,” Jessica says squeezing your side. Your eyes widen at Sam and you realize he hasn’t told her. Sam clears his throat before muttering, “Better get going,” ushering you and Jessica inside the large SUV. The seats face one another and soon you are sipping a mimosa chatting with Sam and Jessica. Quickly discovering she is a model, she shares her life story and you listen enraptured. Whether well-mannered or waiting until Sam isn’t present, she doesn’t ask you about Dean and you are grateful. You had hoped the four hour drive would offer time to strategize. Hours later the car is pulling off the highway and you find yourself in the parking lot of a diner. Sam exits first helping Jessica down before extending his hand towards you. You step onto the pavement and see Dean leaning against the most elegant black car you have ever seen. “What took you so long?” he asks with a scowl. He stops midstride and notices you. Your chestnut hair floats in the wind. Your sky blue eyes lined with thick lashes sparkle.  A rosy flush colors your cheeks complimenting the glow of your bronzed skin. You press your lips together and Dean can’t help but notice your plush lower lip.

“Jess, can you go get us a table?” Sam asks. Jessica takes your arm and the two of you walk into the diner. You typically aren’t one for physical contact, but her demeanor is easy going and she treats you as if you are family. She approaches the world with confidence and with Sam at her side you decide they are goals. Sliding into a booth she glances outside at her husband. “That’s Sam giving Dean an earful for leaving you behind,” she says before scanning the menu. “His loss. You should ride with us the rest of the way out of spite,” she says playfully and before you can answer the door chimes and Sam and Dean walk inside.

Dean walks towards you in a Henley, red and black plaid button down and black motorcycle jacket and suddenly you are grateful you two aren’t alone.

“The pancakes are really good here, Ronnie,” Jessica states.

You press your lips together concealing a laugh at being called the nickname you protested for years. After the waitress greets Sam and Dean by name, she takes your order and leaves. Sam and Jess begin a hushed conversation and you turn towards Dean watching him fold his hands on the table.

“I am sorry I didn’t pick you up,” he says abruptly.

Aware that Sam and Jess are just across the booth you smile at him before saying, “It’s okay. I just want us to have a nice weekend,” squeezing his hand to let him know you are sincere.

He glances down at your hand. “Drive with me the rest of the way?” he asks.

“I would love to,” you say with a half-smile.

Relaxed, Dean stretches his arm across the back of the booth. “Aww, I knew you two were going to be so cute,” Jess croons. “You two look like you are going to go all Bonnie and Clyde,” she says with a laugh.

“Are you guys planning on matching the whole time?” Sam asks snidely.

You shake your head at him, “Bitch,” you mouth.

“Jerk,” he responds.

“Sammy!” Jess admonishes elbowing him in the side. Suddenly your food arrives and everyone digs into their breakfast. Dean watches you add sugar and cream to your coffee and silently kicks himself. These are things he should know. Things people in serious relationships know about one another. Making you ride with Sam and Jess was a selfish attempt to try and enjoy the open road and last hours of privacy, but he wants this to work. There is no room for failure.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean grabs your luggage from the SUV and loads it in into the '67 Chevy Impala. Sam and Jess depart and Dean opens the passenger side door for you. You slide onto the leather bench eyeing the immaculate interior of the car. Filled with blueberry pancakes, your eyes begin to droop as Dean merges onto the highway and classic rock plays lightly through the speakers.

“You can sleep if you want,” he offers.

“I thought we could work on our backstory,” you propose.

“You look pretty tired,” Dean comments.

“I am not a morning person,” you confess scrunching your nose. “Is that terrible? I know it is one of those _Ten Habits of Highly Successful_ _People_ but I love sleeping late,” you add.

“Some people are just like that. I personally think Sammy’s wired wrong. Wakes up every day at five in the morning for his daily run,” Dean says shaking his head.

“I love running! Waking up at five in the morning to do it though… not so much,” you laugh.

“Why don’t you nap for a bit and I will wake you up,” Dean suggests.

“Alright,” you agree folding your scarf into a pillow curling against the passenger door of the Impala. Dean steals glances at you watching you snooze. Your thick lashes flutter against your cheek and he can’t bring himself to wake you up.

“Veronica, we are here,” Dean says urgently.

“You didn’t wake me!” you chastise suddenly alert.

Dean pulls into the long semi-circle driveway and parks behind the black SUV. You step out of the car and discretely eye the three-story mansion with white columns supporting a sprawling second story balcony. You glance back at Dean, who is hugging a man dressed in a valet uniform, patting him on the back in greeting.

“Ronnie! Come meet Benny,” Dean urges.

With a smile you walk to Dean’s side. “Benny, Veronica. Veronica, Benny,” Dean says with a grin. “It is nice to meet you,” you say extending your hand.

“Veronica you are far too beautiful to be with someone as unfortunate as Dean,” Benny drawls in a thick Louisiana accent while shaking your hand.

You blush watching Benny and Dean grapple.

“Dean,” a voice booms and suddenly all three of you stand a little straighter. A man with dark brown hair, salt and pepper beard and black glasses walks towards you. He is dressed in black jeans and a denim button down and as he approaches you begin to see the resemblance.

“Dad,” Dean greets shaking his hand firmly. “This is Veronica Lodge, my girlfriend,” Dean adds almost an afterthought.

Dean’s dad runs his tongue over his lower lip and smiles at you. “Pleased to meet you Veronica. I’m John,” he says kissing your hand softly. Turning to Dean he asks, “Dean where did you find this adorable young woman?” while still holding your hand.

“Actually, I work for Winchester Consulting. I am the Director of Marketing and Public Relations,” you say assertively.

“A smarty pants too!” John says finally releasing your hand. “Sounds like a keeper. Let’s get her inside so Mary can bombard her and give poor Jess a break,” John says ushering you both inside.

High ceilings and windows allow natural light filter in the entryway. Resisting the urge to crane your neck, you make a mental note to ask Dean for the tour later. John leads you to the kitchen where you find Sam and Jess seated at a large wooden island while Mary pours glasses of white wine.

“Dean!” she shouts and you watch as he pulls her into a hug.

“Hey Mom. This is my girlfriend Veronica,” Dean says with a smile.

“Please call me Ronnie,” you tell her shaking her hand.

“Let me get a good look at you! Dean, twirl her,” she orders and suddenly Dean takes your hand lifting it above your head gesturing for you to spin. 

“Well you are stunning,” Mary concludes.

“Isn’t she? If you were just six inches taller, you could model,” Jess adds.

You open your mouth only to be cut off when Dean says, “She is perfect the way she is,” prompting an “Aww” from Jess and Mary and odd look from Sam.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” Mary asks reaching into the cupboard for two more glasses.

“We should go unpack and rest,” Dean says resting his hand on your back.

“I am not tired,” you tell him turning back towards Mary.

“Ronnie, remember I asked you to steam my shirts,” Dean says cupping your waist.

“Dean! We can have them sent out,” his mother scolds.

“They turn out better when Ronnie does it,” Dean insists.

Turning to glare at Dean you clench your jaw.

“Dean…” you begin.

“Veronica. Now,” he orders tugging you towards a flight of stairs.

Wordlessly he leads you to a bedroom where your luggage sits. “You must know I am not steaming your shirts, so what is so important that you are willing to berate me in front of your mom?” you say angrily.

“I know you want to jump right in, but we don’t even have our backstory! A million things could go wrong!” Dean hisses.

“Dean, it was a glass of wine. I can handle it. If you wanted someone to follow you around like a lapdog you should have invited an escort,” you say incensed.

“Yeah? Well right now I am kind of wishing I had,” he hisses. 

You freeze surprised at the pain his words induce. The thought that he would prefer some vacant bimbo instead of someone “accomplished” and “poised” stings. When you realize those were Sam’s words and not Dean’s you take a step back. How did he describe you? Suitable. You swallow tamping down your emotions.

“Let’s work on our backstory then,” you state.

Dean sees the anger simmering in your eyes and grimaces.

“You first,” you say neutrally kicking off your shoes and sitting with your back against the headboard. Dean sighs sinking into the chair next to the large king size bed. Resting his elbows on his knees he begins. Dean tells you about his childhood. The affection his mother and father share for one another and the ever-present pressure of the family business. His relationship with Sam is easily discernible and with the addition of a few close friends, Benny included, Dean Winchester becomes a little less mysterious. You tell Dean about your parents, the lively arguments between your mother and father. Your life post high school is surprisingly succinct considering your career encompasses most of your free time. Combined with likes and dislikes you are dismayed at how your life can be reduced to a few short sentences.

“Alright. How did we meet?” you ask moving on to the narrative you would both need to sell convincingly.

“I figured we would keep it simple. I asked you for a drink after work one day,” he says eyes glued to the carpet.

“Simple works, although we may get a few raised eyebrows considering you are my bosses’ boss,” you admit.

“That is the least of our problems,” Dean says offhandedly.

“What is the worst of your problems?” you ask wishing you had asked Sam more questions when you had the chance.

“I am not entirely convinced this ‘succession planning concern’ is real. I am worried someone is trying to steal the company from me and Sam,” he says glancing up at you.

Realizing you are quickly approaching information that could alter your career, you tread cautiously, “Are the shareholders not happy with how you run the company?” you ask hesitantly. Dean glances at you before staring at the carpet again. “I like working for you. You are a good leader. You value work ethic, integrity and loyalty. I don’t want to work for some skeeze. So talk to me. Who do you think it is?” you pry.

“That’s the problem. Other than Sammy and Jess, I am not sure who I can trust,” Dean confesses.

“Well, you can trust me. I have a vested interest in you retaining your position as CEO,” you say with a weak smile.

“Thanks Ronnie,” Dean says staring at you.

“Well since your mom thinks I am steaming your shirts, I mine as well take a bath,” you say rising from the bed shaking your head in disbelief.

“Ronnie?” Dean calls.

“Yeah,” you respond.

“I am sorry… about earlier… in front of my mom,” Dean stammers.

“I know,” you reply walking into the bathroom closing the door firmly behind you. Glancing around the decadent marble bathroom you sigh running your hands through your hair. You lean over and twist the knob and hot water streams from the faucet. Quickly stripping, you find a jar of bath salts and add a scoop to the steamy water. You sink into the tub hoping to soak some of the tension away.

Forty-five minutes later you wrap yourself in a fluffy bathrobe. Cautiously opening the door to the bedroom you find Dean asleep on the bed. With his arms crossed and back against the headboard you unfold a blanket and lay it over him gently. Unpacking your clothes, you double check the itinerary and admire your cocktail dress hanging in the closet. It is a strapless burgundy dress with a sweetheart neckline and pencil skirt. When you hear a soft knock at the door you freeze. Without the added convenience of a keyhole you are unsure who is on the other side. It could be Jess or it could be John. Securing your bathrobe, you open the door a crack relieved to see Jess’ blonds hair. “Ronnie!” she exclaims.

“Hey Jess! Dean is asleep,” you whisper.

“Here come to our room. We are just across the hall,” she says motioning her head.

“Jess I am in my bathrobe!” you insist.

“Oh please like it is anything I haven’t seen before,” she admonishes.

Dean stirs and you quickly close the bedroom door before sprinting across the hall.

“Sam!” you shout in surprise.

“Hey Ronnie,” Sam greets casually completely unconcerned you are naked under your robe.

You clear your throat, “Did you need something Jess?” you ask eager to return to your own room.

“Sam and I just wanted to make sure everything was okay with you and Dean,” she says.

“We are fine,” you insist.

“He practically dragged you off to his room,” Jess presses.

You look at Sam for help struggling to think of a reasonable explanation. “He just gets like that sometimes,” you say lamely.

“I have never seen him like that with anyone ...Oh!” she says as if just realizing something. “Well then … Dean is as much of a caveman as I expected. Naughty,” she says with a wink.

“Jess…” you begin ready to tell her the truth.

“Maybe we could not talk about my brother’s sex life while Ronnie is practically naked?” Sam interrupts.

You clear your throat sensing Sam’s agitation.

“Sam, don’t be so uptight,” Jess rebukes.

“No, Sam is right,” you maintain. “Sorry Sam. I am just going to go back to my room,” you apologize while trying to catch his eye. You aren’t happy lying to Jess and you thinks Sam feels the same way.

“I am going to go get dressed,” you insist, watching her glower at Sam before you sprint back to your room.

Opening the door you find Dean still snoozing soundly. You decide to begin the arduous task of curling your hair into voluminous waves. With your hair done you slip on your bra and panties and spread your makeup over the large marble counter. Getting ready in peace and quiet, you double check Dean is still asleep before holding the cocktail dress in front of you and stepping into it.

Struggling with the zipper you hear Dean wake and open the door to the bathroom. His hair shoots up at different angles and you laugh softly. “Zip me up?” you ask and in his sluggish state his warm hands tug the zipper up gently fluttering over your skin. “You smell nice,” he growls sniffing your neck before grabbing his suit and pushing you out of the bathroom. You sit at the vanity putting your earrings on and waiting for Dean to finish dressing. As you slip a bracelet over your wrist the door to the bathroom opens and Dean emerges in a gray suit and burgundy tie. “Damn, we are so going to get teased for this,” he says eyeing your matching dress.

“Dean,” you say seriously.

“Hmm?” he asks. 

“Nobody can run this company better than you can. Stop worrying about every shadow lurking in the corner and start showing people you deserve to be CEO. If it takes a brunette on your arm for them to realize you are the man for the job, then guess what? You have a brunette on your arm,” you finish.

“Now let’s go give Sam and Jess a run for cutest couple,” you tease with a wink.


	3. Chapter 3

She is perfection. Women want to be her and men want to be with her. Her glossy brown hair cascades down her shoulders. The burgundy dress accentuates her toned arms and shoulders. Her skin is bronzed and flawless. The dress hugs her chest and skims her hips before ending tastefully at the knee. Dean could not have asked for a better fake girlfriend. Quickly ripped from his side by his mother and sister in law, she is dragged around the living room and introduced to dozens of people, her facial expressions never suggesting annoyance or irritation.

She talks to each and every person, eyes bright with interest. She laughs at their jokes, gasps at their dramatic pauses, and places a comforting hand on their arms when words aren’t enough. Dean finds his eyes constantly searching for her as he circulates the room. With the reunion in full swing every relative has arrived and he can’t stand most of them. He searches the crowd for you when his eyes land on the only cousin he actually likes, Cas. Cas grew up with Sam and Dean after his mom, John’s sister, abandoned him. Mary and John took him in and the three were inseparable. Dean cuts through the crowd making his way towards Cas, Anna and their son Owen.

With the threat of a thunderstorm looming, the cocktail hour, typically held outside on the spacious patio is held inside. The enormous living room is handsomely furnished with leather couches and a roaring fireplace. With servers weaving between guests refilling wine glasses and offering hors d'oeuvres the room is cozy and rustic.

“Cas! How are you buddy?” Dean asks as he leans in to give Cas a half hug and pat on the back.

“Dean,” Cas’ gravelly voice greets.

“Anna, breathtaking as always,” he says hugging the lanky redhead next to Dean. Anna was always a free spirit, which Dean found strange considering she served as a lieutenant. Although prone to odd comments that sounded vaguely like prophecies, she loves Castiel and is a fantastic mother to the small boy currently glued to her side.

Dean crouches down, “Hey there little man,” he says before the young boy launches himself into Dean’s arms.

“What do you say Owen?” Anna says in her singsong voice.

“Hi Uncle Dean,” Owen chirps.

Dean rubs Owen’s head affectionately earning an eye roll from Cas. “We just got his hair flat, Dean,” Cas lectures.

“Lighten up man. Have a drink,” he says waving a server over.

“I heard you came with someone,” Cas says relaxing slightly as groups of people chat in clusters near them.

“Yeah ... umm. She is around here somewhere,” Dean says vaguely while rubbing the back of his head. He has no problem lying to his other relatives, but lying to Cas feels wrong. “I look forward to meeting her,” Cas rasps. Not one for extravagant displays of emotions, his statement is as good as a dozen roses. “Yeah, I will find her in a second,” Dean stalls. “So fill me in! How have you two been?” Dean says clapping his hands together beaming at them. “Owen is doing wonderfully in preschool. He loves drawing. Don’t you, love?” Anna prompts as the young boy buries his face into her leg.

“That’s great!” Dean encourages.

Anna stands and suddenly freezes. Staring passed Dean’s shoulder her gaze is fixated behind him. “That woman is an enchantress,” she whispers wide eyed.

“Yes, she is certainly captivating,” Cas says brushing off the eccentric comment.

Although he already knows whom Anna is referring to, Dean turns and finds himself slightly surprised when he sees you. You are chatting with Samuel Campbell, Mary’s father. Notorious for his cantankerous demeanor, especially around Winchesters, Dean is shocked when he tosses his head back and laughs. Loudly. Half of the room turns and you smile stunningly. Suddenly uncomfortable with the amount of attention you are drawing, Dean shuffles through the crowd and places his hand on the small of your back.

“Excuse me, Samuel. I need to borrow my girlfriend,” Dean says politely, guiding you towards Cas.

Your cheeks hurt, but you smile brightly at Dean. You have never smiled so much in your life, yet you are well aware of what is on the line. You are determined to do two things: charm every single person in the room and convince them you are completely smitten with Dean. You take a small sip of wine before finally making your way to a man with piercing blue eyes, a willowy woman with dark red hair and a small boy with glasses.

“Veronica this is my cousin Cas and his wife Anna,” Dean says affectionately. As with Benny, Dean’s smile is wide and you can tell he holds a certain fondness for the odd little family.

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” you say finding yourself genuinely smiling as you shake Cas’ hand and then Anna’s. Noticing the little boy has completely retreated behind his mother’s dress, you hand a passing server your glass and crouch down in a move that appears effortlessly elegant. As you pretend to peak around Anna’s dress, Dean can’t help but think you look like a princess. You playfully catch the young boy’s eye. “Cas! The most adorable little boy has followed you into the party!” you tease.

“You are mistaken. That is our son, Owen,” Cas says his voice deep and brow furrowed. Anna laughs softly, “Owen introduce yourself to Veronica,” she prompts.

“I am Owen Winchester,” he says extending his tiny hand.

“Owen Winchester. It is very nice to meet you. I am Veronica Lodge,” you say shaking his hand. “You can call me Ronnie though,” you whisper loudly with a wink.  

You stand and find Dean staring at you and Cas staring at Dean. Anna glances around the room, “I think dinner is starting,” she says in a lighthearted tone.

Realizing Cas is staring at him skeptically, Dean asks “What?” with a scowl adjusting his cuffs.  

Dean tells Cas he will catch up with him later and the two of you turn and look for Sam and Jess. Despite their height, it takes a few minutes for the crowd to thin before finding them. Watching people head to the dining room you realize Dean is considered short in his family and at an average height for a woman, you aren’t accustomed to so many people towering over you. “You didn’t have to do that,” Dean whispers in your ear pretending to look around the room. “Do what?” you mouth nodding in acknowledgement to the family members filing into the dining room. “Be so nice to Owen,” he says his gaze finding yours.

His sparkling green eyes are wide and questioning and you wonder if he could stop time with the flutter of his eyelashes. “Why wouldn’t I be nice to him?” you ask shocked. “Besides, I am sucker for little boys with glasses,” you smile.

“Ooh me too,” Jess adds and you feel a blush creep up your neck.

“And little girls in glasses. And twins. And little girls with pigtails,” she continues.

“You just have baby fever,” Sam teases.

“Don’t tease me Sam. You know I always say there aren’t enough maternity wear models,” she jokes.

You squeeze Dean’s upper arm and press your lips together to keep from succumbing to a fit of laughter. Clearing your throat you suggest, “Maybe we should join everyone else?” eyeing the dining room.

Sam escorts Jessica into the dining room and you and Dean follow. Instantaneously, you realize you are the last two couples to be seated and all eyes are turned towards you. Dean’s mouth turns into a scowl at the sight of all his relatives and you dig your hand into his bicep reminding him to smile. His face breaks into a forced grin and you quickly walk to the empty seats next to Jess and Sam.

Three walls of floor to ceiling glass windows look out into the night. A chandelier hangs from the ceiling bathing the room in a soft glow. Glasses and silverware clink as you drape a cloth napkin across your lap.

“Sammy switch with me!” Jessica murmurs and she and Sam subtlety switch seats leaving her on your right.

“Surviving?” Jessica whispers with an impish smile.

“Yes. Jess, it isn’t that bad,” you laugh.

“You and I need to spend some time alone. The stories I could tell,” she says shaking her head before taking a sip of wine.

Both aware privacy is an illusion, you begin to discuss the rest of the events planned for the weekend. By the time dessert is set in front of you, Jessica is telling you about the designer clothes she is allowed to keep and offers to show you a few pieces that might spark your interest. What many would consider a condescending gesture is delivered with such sincerity and warmth, you find yourself smiling and telling her you would love to see if anything suits you. Setting her spoon down gently she pushes her chair out and begins to excuse herself. Confused, you watch her struggle to stand just as she sways and lands on the floor. “Jessica!” you cry tossing your napkin on your chair kneeling at her side. Delicately easing her onto her back, Sam is next to you in seconds. “Jess?” he questions cradling her face. Guests begin to stand and crowd around her unconscious body. You lift her arm into your lap and press your fingers against her wrist. “Her pulse is weak,” you tell Sam before he lifts her into his arms as if she weighs nothing. Unconcerned that he is causing a scene he adjusts her listless body in his arms just as Mary arrives. Standing in front of Sam she addresses the crowd, “Excuse us for just one second,” she reassures loudly with a smile.

“This way,” she orders cutting a path through the crowd. You watch as Jessica’s arm flops to the side. Startled, you jump when a hand rests on your back and your heart feels like it is going to burst through your chest.

“Ronnie what happened?” Dean asks in a low voice. Squeezing his arm, you struggle to compose yourself as family members glance at you curiously. Dean watches your skittish expression and the quick rise and fall of your chest. Realizing you are trying to calm yourself, he pulls you into his arms and cradles the back of your head. His warmth is intoxicating and you regret when he releases you. Tucking your hand around his arm, he escorts you out of the banquet hall.

Rushing down the hall, Dean doesn’t even knock before barging into Sam’s room. He finds Jessica lying on the bed with Mary seated next to her and Sam in a chair by her side elbows on his knees as if he is praying.  “What’s wrong with her?” Dean barks. Unruffled, Mary looks at him, “We don’t know. Her skin is warm and she keeps moaning,” Mary says with a concerned expression.

An ice bucket sits next to two half empty flutes and a bottle of champagne that has been empty for hours. You grab it and walk into the bathroom filling it with cold water while you locate a washcloth. Wetting the washcloth you ring it out leaving it damp before walking back to the bedroom and handing it to Mary. Mary lays it on Jessica’s forehead gently pushing her blonde hair from her clammy brow. “We need a doctor,” Dean says brusquely.

“The nearest hospital is two hours away. I called, but Dr. Mijares is out on a house call. The nurse said she would give him the message as soon as he returns,” Mary explains.

When it becomes obvious there is nothing you or Dean can do to help, you retreat across the hall to your own room. Rubbing your arms you try and ward off the chill. Thunder cracks overhead and you flinch. “You okay?” Dean asks.

“Yeah. Jess is just…” you begin.

“She is going to be fine. Maybe it is just food poisoning,” Dean interrupts and you realize he doesn’t believe his own words.

“Should we go back?” you offer gesturing to the door.

“No. Everyone has probably turned in for the night,” Dean says dejectedly.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly.

Turning your back to him, you pull your hair over your right shoulder exposing your neck and back. His hands warm your shoulders.

“It’s not your fault. I am glad you are here,” he says gruffly, slowly easing the zipper down watching the fabric reveal your flawless skin.


	4. Chapter 4

You slip out of the maroon dress and kick off your black heels. Clutching the fabric to your chest, you walk to the closet and reach for a hanger. Standing in your black strapless bra and panties, Dean’s eyes graze your narrow waist admiring the way the lace hugs your hips and backside. You rummage through the dresser and pull out silk purple shorts and a matching t-shirt. Carrying them to the bathroom, you close the door.

Face washed, teeth brushed, and contacts removed you emerge from the bathroom in lose fitting pajamas and glasses. Dean removes his jacket and tie tossing them over the armchair. Digging through your bag you find a small bottle of moisturizer and squeeze some into your palm before rubbing it into your hands and elbows.

“I have never seen you in glasses,” Dean says. You stare up at him tilting your head to the side. “They make you look smart,” he continues.

“I am smart. I work for you,” you respond with a smile.

“How old are you?” Dean asks.

“Twenty-eight,” you answer.

“You are only twenty-eight?” Dean says in surprise.

“Twenty-eight years young,” you laugh squeezing more lotion into your hands before massaging it into your legs.

“Sammy and I need to be more selective about who we hire,” he says before darting into the bathroom barely ducking the pillow you flung at him.

You return the bottle to the nightstand. Rain pounds against the side of the house and you pull back the sheets. Lying on your side you tuck one arm under the pillow, the other curled to your chest. Minutes later, the mattress dips and Dean adjusts the heavy blankets over the two of you before lying on his back. “Tell me about tomorrow,” you murmur drowsily.

“Breakfast will be casual. Afterwards everyone will gather outside for the annual Winchester Clay Pigeon Shooting Competition. Dad, Sam and I always participate. Cas and Gabriel will enter, but they never win. Then it is back inside to dress for dinner. It is the unofficial end to the weekend,” he explains.

You contemplate Dean’s response and soon the rain lulls you to sleep. In the middle of the night, lightening cracks and Dean wraps his arm around your waist. His grip is like a vise as he pulls you towards his chest. With his warm torso against your back, he sleepily mutters, “Perfect fit,” before burrowing his face into your hair. 

Dean slowly wakes as sunlight fills the room. Wrapped in blankets, he blinks at you realizing you are encased in his arms. Quickly releasing you, he sits up and rubs his face before checking the alarm clock. Sliding out of bed, he changes into a pair of jeans. He pulls the blanket up to your shoulder, brushing your hair from your face, before heading downstairs to breakfast.

Dean walks into the dining room zeroing in on the urn filled with coffee. Grabbing two mugs, he fills them adding cream and sugar to yours while eyeing chafing dishes filled with eggs, bacon and potatoes. Before he can grab a plate Sam is at his side.

“Sammy. How’s Jess?” Dean asks with a stern expression.

“She is better. Dr. Mijares examined her last night. Benny is watching over her. Dean, Cas and I need to talk to you,” Sam says urgently grabbing his brother’s upper arm.

“Benny?” Dean asks in confusion while scanning the room. Relatives sit at tables chatting over plates of half eaten breakfast. Realizing almost everyone is dressed for the day, Dean turns to Sam “Can we catch up later, Sammy? I am glad to hear Jess is better. I need to go wake Ronnie up,” he says making his way back upstairs.

You tuck the ivory knit turtleneck into your high-rise jeans and look for your hunter green wellington boots. Dragging them out of the closet, you twist your hair back into a low bun when you hear the door open. “Morning,” Dean says searching your face for any memory of last night’s embrace.

“You didn’t wake me,” you scold while pining back stray pieces of hair.

“I figured meeting everyone took a lot out of you,” he justifies.

“Is that for me?” you ask nodding to the second mug.

“Yeah,” he says realizing he is still holding both coffees.

“Perfect. Thank you,” you hum between sips.

Your hand is firmly wrapped around Dean’s upper arm as he leads you to the back of the house. A huge deck overlooks a sprawling backyard before a line of trees transitions to dense woodland. High tables are set up on the porch and lawn along with heaters, Adirondack chairs and a buffet table with refreshments. John and Sam stand yards away from the crowd loading their shotguns while a man dressed in a valet uniform checks the trap.

“Wish me luck,” Dean says squeezing your arm before joining Sam and John. Soon Anna is standing next to you with Owen and Cas joins Sam, Dean and John. The three of you locate a table and a waiter brings three hot apple ciders. Anna seats Owen on a chair and you watch as a fifth man joins the others. “Who is that?” you ask trying to remember if he was present last night. “That is Gabriel,” Anna says rubbing the back of Owen’s head affectionately. “I don’t know why he is entering the contest. He never takes anything seriously,” she says before taking a sip of cider. The rain has left the grounds cold and damp and you are grateful for the thick sweater and boots. Soon the competition starts and each shooter yells “Pull” before cartridges fly through the air. After four rounds, John and Dean are tied for first place. You smile at Anna who sits with Owen in her lap, her hands placed over his ears despite the fact that nobody is currently shooting.

“I am glad to see you are enjoying yourselves,” Mary says joining the three of you. Your eyes search hers questioningly and she whispers, “She is doing much better,” under her breath.

“Mary!” John’s voice rumbles from across the lawn. “Come give me a kiss for good luck!” he shouts eliciting a chuckle from the crowd. Mary rolls her eyes before excusing herself and walking across the lawn towards John. Guests laugh when John dips her before lightly pecking her lips. You find Dean’s gaze and your heart beats loudly in your chest.

“Your turn,” Anna says seconds before Dean shouts “Ronnie!” his voice thundering across the lawn. Smiling, you pull your shoulders back and walk towards Dean. Clasping your hands together you watch as Dean hands his rifle to Cas. He cradles your face gently, his eyes captivated by your mouth. “I’m sorry,” he whispers staring into your eyes before his lips cover yours. Your lips part slightly in response and when you begin to pull away he brushes his tongue inside of your mouth in a sweeping arc. When you resist the urge to bite his lower lip you whimper softly causing him to pull you flush against him.

“Dean,” Cas’ voice interrupts and when he releases you abruptly, you realize guests are whistling and laughing. Dean grabs his shotgun and Cas leads you to Mary, Sam and Gabriel. John shoots “Pull” and hits the target on the second shot. Mary puts her arm around your shoulders and the two of you watch excitedly to see if Dean will hit the target on the first shot. Dean winks at you before yelling, “Pull” and in the blink of an eye you hear shouting as he falls to the ground.

Watching him withdraw his hand from his arm, fingers stained with blood, you realize he has been shot. Guests scramble and chaos erupts. John lunges for Mary guiding her back towards the house. “Dean! Are you okay?” you ask kneeling next to him trying to examine his arm.

“Cas! Get her inside,” Dean orders before you notice Sam running with his rifle towards the trees. Cas’ hand wraps around your entire forearm as he pulls you to your feet dragging you towards the house.

“Damnit,” Dean swears before standing and quickly racing after Sam.

“Dean!” you shout while Cas continues to pull you with a strength you didn’t know he possessed. You struggle against his grip. Cas rests his hand on Anna’s back ushering the three of you indoors. Cas doesn’t slow down until you reach his room. It is a sprawling suite with two bedrooms. He checks both doors before turning his impassive stare to Anna. “You know what to do,” he instructs and in seconds he is gone.

“Anna what is happening?” you ask. She passes you Owen and you rub his back soothingly. Anna rummages through her dresser and pulls out a handgun. After checking it is loaded and the safety is on she tucks it into her waistband.

“Sam approached Castiel this morning. He thinks Jessica was poisoned. I also suspect Jess was poisoned. I saw her switch seats with Sam,” Anna explains.

“You think someone is trying to hurt Sam and Dean?” you ask unable to mask the shock in your voice. “That would mean someone tried to kill Dean,” you continue as you begin to grasp what she is saying.

“Yes. Sam is determined to find out who it is. That is why he was at the competition. Castiel convinced him to leave Benny watching over Jess,” Anna says.

“That is why Sam went racing into the woods,” you mumble. 

Anna lifts Owen out of your arms and into an armchair. She grabs a tissue and crouches down drying his tears. “Are you alright Owen?” she asks in a singsong voice. She is completely at ease with the firearm tucked into the back of her jeans and you don’t doubt she would pull the trigger. Anna rises after two quick knocks followed by a third sound at the door. Castiel walks in with an irritated expression. “Veronica. Dean asked me to escort you to your room,” he says.  Cas repeats the same knock and you walk into your room and find Dean sitting on the bed shirtless. The door closes behind you and step forward and turn his arm over in your hands.

“Ronnie…” Dean begins.

“Someone shot at you,” you say angrily.

“It just grazed me,” Dean insists, but you barely hear his response. You walk to the bathroom and dig through the cabinets finally finding a first aid kit. Dean’s body blocks the doorway and you stare at his broad shoulders and the way his jeans hang low on his hips. You ogle the pentagram tattooed on his right shoulder before realizing you are still holding the dinged metallic first aid kit. Setting it on the counter, you order for him to sit before rifling through it.

You find a bottle of antiseptic spray and tear open a pack of gauze. Dean watches as you cut strips of medical tape. “Ready?” you ask not waiting for a response before dousing him in disinfectant.

“Jesus, Ronnie that stings,” he complains grimacing.

“Don’t be a baby,” you lecture dabbing at his skin with a cotton ball. The bullet grazed his bicep leaving a shallow wound.

“Any deeper and I would be practicing my sewing,” you tell him focused on patting his skin dry. Holding a piece of gauze to his wound you order, “Hold this,” before reaching for a piece of white medical tape. Dean sighs affixing the gauze to his left forearm with his right hand. You quickly tape down the gauze focused on ensuring it is secure. Unaware Dean is staring at your face; you finally finish and begin returning the materials to the first aid kit.

“Thank you,” he mumbles.

“You’re welcome,” you respond with a sigh leaning back against the bathroom wall.

“So someone is trying to kill you,” you say steadily watching Dean’s eyes widen in surprise. “I talked to Anna,” you explain.

“I figured something was wrong when Sammy went running half nuts into the forest. We didn’t find the shooter,” he says angrily.

“What happens now?” you ask gently.

“Sam is hell-bent on finding out who it is. Like a dog with a bone that kid ….” Dean says trailing off.

“What do you think?” you probe.

“If I had it my way all of us would be in the Impala on our way back to the city. Cas and company included,” Dean says shaking his head. “I told Sam we would stay. I at least owe him that much. Jess is better, but she is still weak. Sam hopes desperation will make whoever it is sloppy,” Dean explains.

“You keep telling me what Sam thinks,” you voice.

“He is my brother, Ronnie,” Dean says and in that moment you realize Dean Winchester, the confident CEO you always knew has been replaced by the man who would do anything for his brother.


	5. Chapter 5

A trigger-happy hunter who was trespassing. That was the lie Sam and Dean perpetuated. Guests bemoaned the lack of common decency while latching onto the explanation eager to rationalize the unpleasantness. You decided to shower while Sam, Dean and Cas met in your room agreeing to leave first thing tomorrow morning whether the individual had been caught or not. Emerging from the steamy shower, you wrap a fluffy towel around your body and wait for Sam and Cas to leave.

Dean finally closes the bedroom door behind Sam and Cas, “You can come out now,” he shouts.

“How did you know?” you ask opening the door.

“Shower stopped,” he answers with a preoccupied expression.

“What’s wrong?” you ask hesitantly.

“Sammy is so sure we will find who did this before we leave,” Dean sighs.

Pressing your lips together you sit on the bed. “What did you tell John and Mary?” you inquire.

“Sam made up some stupid story about some hunter trespassing. You, Sam and Cas are the only ones who know I was shot,” Dean responds.

“So dinner is still on?” you probe.

“Yup,” Dean says unhappily.

“Okay. I better get dressed,” you say resigned. Dean slips a plaid shirt on scowling slightly when he tries to lift his arm. “I should check on my mom and Jess. I will be back in an hour,” he says. “Lock the door behind me and don’t answer the door unless you hear the knock. Two quick knocks and…” he orders.

“And then a third. I got it,” you interrupt.

Staring at you sitting on the bed in a towel, he internally curses himself.

“Dean,” you say softly pulling him from his thoughts. “This isn’t your fault,” you insist.

Wearing a tormented expression, he clears his throat before leaving the room. Seconds pass before you stand and lock the door. Disrobing you unzip the garment bag running your fingers over the gown you purchased.

When you scanned the list Dean provided, scribbled at the very bottom was “formal evening gown” underlined twice. With no indication how the weekend unfold, you picked a dress that exuded power and elegance. If you were a failure, at least you wouldn’t be a failure in a gaudy prom dress. Unzipping the enormous garment bag, you run your fingers over the gown. The long sleeved, mermaid skirt, boat neck collar with a low back dress is elegant in its simplicity. Undaunted by the color, a pristine white, you take a deep breath and remind yourself you are a Lodge and with success comes enemies and you are no stranger to success. With your hair styled in loose waves and thick voluminous eyelashes, you sit sliding on your jewelry waiting for Dean to return. Two quick knocks followed by a third and you are swiftly unlocking the door. Helping Dean inside you watch as an odd expression flutters across his face.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Other then the obvious,” he quips.

Narrowing your eyes at him, you put your hand on your hips. “You and Sammy make the same bitch face,” he says groaning as he tries to remove his shirt. Quick to help, you pull the shirt off of his shoulders.

“I think I need help getting dressed,” he admits.

“You think so?” you ask sarcastically opening the closet, searching for his suit.

Reaching into his pocket he pulls out two mini bottles of bourbon. Eyeing the bottles you ask, “Is one of those for me?” setting his suit and pants on the bed.

“Not this time gorgeous,” he answers making quick work of both bottles. Helping Dean dress is a challenge. You have never tied a bowtie backwards and he has to stand in front of the mirror with you peeking over his shoulder knotting it. 

“Not bad,” you tease as you finish pulling the looped ends.

“Ronnie,” he says turning towards you gently resting his hands on your waist. “I am probably going to forget to say this, so I want to tell you now,” Dean begins in a hasty tone.

The door to the bedroom opens with a creak. Realizing you didn’t lock the door after Dean returned, you turn and find Sam standing in the bedroom.

“Hey Sam,” you greet.

“Veronica you look absolutely stunning,” Sam says.

You walk towards him taking his hand. “I was so happy to hear Jess is doing better. I wish she felt well enough to come down,” you confess. “She didn’t seem particularly enthused on spending time with your family,” you continue trying to be diplomatic.

“Trust me after last night, I am perfectly happy to leave her with Benny,” Sam says. You squeeze his hand before releasing it.

“Right. Well. Are we ready?” he asks glancing at Dean.

“Veronica?” Sam says offering you his arm.

Dean coughs loudly behind you and you press your lips together suppressing a laugh. “I should probably let Dean …” you trail off.

Dean smiles at Sam smugly and Sam rolls his eyes before the three of you walk to the banquet room.

Scanning the room full of guests you smile brightly while Dean leads you to a round table, pulling your chair out for you before taking his own seat. Sitting with John, Mary, Cas, Anna and Owen you relax. You sip champagne as you smile at Anna and when the first course arrives you offer to entertain Owen so she can eat.  Anna whispers into Owen’s ear and when he nods she settles him on your lap with a coloring book. Purposefully pushing your food to the side, the two of you begin coloring and you ask Owen about his favorite colors and whether he likes to draw.

Courses pass and when Dean notices you aren’t eating he cuts into your steak taking a hearty bite. Assured it tastes normal, he cuts another piece and holds the fork out towards you. “I am not hungry,” you insist with a smile. He gives you an arrogant glare and pushes the fork closer to your mouth. He brings the fork to your lips and you take the tender meat in in your mouth blushing at the intimate gesture. Dean cuts the remainder of your steak into small slices and you quickly return Owen to Anna before he continues feeding you. Dean adjusts his chair closer to yours every so often leaning to whisper something to Sam. The blend of polite conversation, champagne pouring, clinking cutlery and soft jazz fills the air. Dishes are cleared and soon musicians begin tuning their instruments. Mary smiles at John lovingly and he stands grabbing a microphone to address the crowd.

“Good Evening,” he says and you can’t deny the charm and confidence he radiates. “Thank you all for joining us this weekend. These days more than ever I think it is important for us to come together not just as major stakeholders, but also family. It has been a fantastic year and with Dean’s leadership, I know next year is going to be even better!” John says enthusiastically. With all eyes turned towards your table, Dean smiles raising his hand to acknowledge the applause. .

“Who knows maybe between now and next year’s retreat we will hear wedding bells?” John suggests winning a laugh from the crowd. The smile on your lips becomes painful and you grip Dean’s hand tightly. “Seriously though. Don’t let that one get away,” John jokes. Dean brings the back of your hand to his lips kissing it softly while you smile helplessly at onlookers. John concludes, “Have a great evening everyone!” raising a glass of champagne.

As people toast one another your eyes dart to Sam for reassurance and when he shrugs his shoulders you silently mouth “Bitch” to which he responds, “Jerk” before turning to Mary with an innocent expression. The band begins to play and when Castiel says he is going to take Owen upstairs, no doubt to leave him with Benny and Jess, Dean asks Anna if she would like to dance. Anna wordlessly stands taking Dean’s hand. 

Mary drags Sam to the dance floor and soon you find yourself staring up at John. “Dance?” he asks in a tone that is more of a demand than a request. Placing your hand on his, he leads you to the dance floor and you force yourself to remain calm.

His right hand encloses yours. You rest your left on his shoulder as he places his on your waist and you sway following his lead. “I hope I didn’t embarrass you,” he says unapologetically. 

“Not at all,” you insist smiling up at him.

“You are a beautiful smart woman,” John begins and you stare at him smiling waiting for him to continue. When it is obvious he is waiting for a response, you reply, “Thank you Mr. Winchester,” emphasizing mister. His eyes glitter dangerously and you wait for his next move. “I still can’t figure out how Dean managed to snag you. I know I am biased, but you and Dean make a stunning couple. I am sure Hiram agrees,” he states.

The informal tone with which he uses your father’s first name turns your anxiety into anger. Steadfast you continue to meet his stare, “My father is a very smart and powerful man,” you reply superficially, agreeing with John while also reminding him threatening you is a dangerous game. “That he is Veronica,” John laughs. “I think he and I would both agree, family is everything,” he says searching your gaze.

“Family is everything,” you repeat wistfully.

“If I may?” a rough voice asks.

John turns and you are surprised to see Castiel standing behind him. John nods to him, “Castiel. Veronica,” he says before departing, letting Cas cut in.

“Thank you Cas,” you whisper. You dance in silence turning only when you feel Cas tense under your hand. Rotating, you find Gabriel standing in front of you and Cas.

“Gabriel,” Cas acknowledges tersely.

“Cas,” Gabriel says crassly as if his name is a swear word.

“You might want to keep an eye on your boyfriend. He has a penchant for redheads,” Gabriel mocks staring at Dean and Anna before walking away.

“Is that your cousin?” you ask in disbelief.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Cas responds rolling his eyes.

“Should I be … are you worried about Dean and …” you begin awkwardly.

“Gabriel is referring to Dean’s first fiancé, Charlie, but since he is an idiot that doesn’t know what his talking about, you shouldn’t be concerned,” he says dismissively.

“What doesn’t he know?” you ask hesitantly.

“Is everyone going to dance with my girlfriend before I do?” Dean laughs resting his hand on Cas’ shoulder.

“Oh good. Dean is here. He can explain it to you. Come on, Anna,” he says leading her back towards the table.

“What am I explaining?” Dean asks lightly resting his arm on your waist.

“Gabriel insinuated you are having an affair with Anna,” you say through a forced smile glancing around the room.

Dean chuckles and pulls you closer to his chest his lips hovering over your ear, “Charlie,” Dean whispers. Resting your head against his you listen. “Charlie and I were childhood friends. We were engaged for two months before I realized we have the same taste in women,” he says discreetly.

“Sam mentioned she called off the wedding. I didn’t realize …” you begin.

“Charlie has not yet made her preferences known. Out of respect for her, I took the fall,” Dean says tensely. “I heard about it for months,” Dean adds.

“We may have another issue,” you explain.

When an exaggerated cough comes from over your shoulder, Dean scowls. “No. Get out of here,” he rebukes.

“Head of your legal team,” Sam reminds Dean before Dean rolls his eyes.

“Two minutes,” he warns Sam angrily before storming off.

The band begins another slow song and you rest your hand on Sam’s chest his height making it almost impossible for you to dance together. “Sorry to interrupt,” he apologizes.

“It’s okay, but after this I am sitting down,” you joke with a laugh.

“Have you noticed anyone suspicious?” Sam asks in a hushed tone.

“No,” you answer.

Sam sighs, “Me either,” he says in an exasperated tone.

“I think your dad knows about the contact,” you whisper.

Sam gives you a puzzled look.

“He seems shocked I would date Dean and it almost felt like he was threatening me while we were dancing,” you explain.

“John came down on Dean hard after Charlie. He kept complaining that Dean didn’t even try and fight for her. They would have been miserable,” Sam says trailing off. “I wish I could say John would never threaten you. I doubt he knows about you and Dean. He is probably worried you have to much influence over Dean,” Sam babbles.

“Why would he think that?” you ask.

“Dean is glaring at me. I think our two minutes are up,” Sam says abruptly leaving you on the dance floor. Staring him at oddly, you don’t notice Mary approach you.

“You look like you could use a break,” she says sympathetically.

“A break would be nice,” you admit. She takes your arm leading you towards the balcony.

“Your dress is beautiful,” she says and you smile at the sincerity in her eyes and voice.

“You have a beautiful home. I meant to ask Dean for the tour,” you respond.  

“I am sure he would be happy to show you,” Mary says lightly. “He seems very taken with you,” she continues hesitantly.

“I am learning more about him every day,” you say honestly.

“He is probably looking for you right now,” Mary says, the truth of her statement hitting you. “Let’s go back inside,” she says.

Walking you back to Dean she pats your elbow. “Everything okay?” he asks tilting your jaw up, searching your eyes.

“Your family is interesting,” you say uncertainly. Grabbing two flutes of champagne from a passing server. The night grows late and your odd encounters while dancing become the most interesting event of the night. Sam becomes agitated pacing the room until Dean finally tells him to go check on Jess. Leaving huffily, you feel an odd mix of disappointment and relief when you return safely to your room the weekend almost over.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean lies on his back staring up at the ceiling. After returning to the room, you packed your clothes. Seeing the closet empty, jeans and sweaters neatly folded in your suitcase and garment bag zipped, Dean realized the weekend was coming to end. Monday morning both of you would return to Winchester Consulting and as per the contract he had you sign, pretend none of this ever happened. After sleeping most of the night on his back, just before dawn, you turned over and snuggled into his chest. Dean stares down at your face admiring your long lashes, rosy cheeks and pink mouth. Too scared to move, he eyes the lock of hair of tickling your nose and resists the urge to brush it back from your face. You wiggle your nose before turning over, never noticing the mattress dip as Dean leaves the bed.

When the alarm blares, you roll over and turn it off. Sitting up from the bed you massage your temple and realize the shower is running. Preparing for the long car ride, you slip on black leggings, running shoes and a gray hoodie. When Dean emerges from the shower you squint at him before brushing your teeth, washing your face and grabbing all of your toiletries. Not bothering with makeup, you pull your hair back into a high ponytail. Silently the two of you zip up your suitcases, barely mumbling to one another in an effort to leave the house undetected. When Cas, Anna and Owen meet you in the front of the house, you greet them with a hug.

Cas and Dean quickly load the black SUV and Impala and in minutes Sam is jogging towards you.

“Morning,” he greets, “Bad news. Mom woke up and wants to say bye,” Sam says turning towards his brother and cousin. Dean rolls his eyes before slamming the trunk of the Impala closed. “Jess is finishing up. She should be down any second. Let’s just go say bye and then we can hit the road,” he insists.

Cas kisses Anna on the cheek and the three men trudge back inside. The morning air is crisp and you stand with Anna watching Owen play in the driveway. “Owen is really sweet,” you tell her. 

“Owen is shy. It is good to see him warming up to others. I hope you and Dean can come by sometime for dinner,” she says watching him. You watch her, your gaze suddenly interrupted by the sound of a car roaring down the street. A white sedan turns into the circular driveway fishtailing towards you and Anna. She swiftly pulls you off of the pavement onto the grassy lawn. The car dodges the Impala and SUV thundering as it rounds the bend careening towards Owen. Standing in the center of the road, Owen is paralyzed by fear and directly in the driver’s path. “Owen!” Anna screams while squeezing your arm and in an instant both of you are running across the grassy semi-circle. Desperate to reach him, Anna matches your stride before you outpace her. Your legs pump as you sprint across the manicured lawn, gaze locked on his terrified expression. You lift him off his feet out of the car's path before it speeds by inches from where he was standing. Setting him on his feet, you collapse onto the lawn heaving as you turn to your side. You grit your teeth fighting through the painful stitch in your side. Anna grabs Owen holding him tightly. “Owen!” she cries distraught and trembling.

Panting, you close your eyes before you are suddenly pulled to your feet. Stumbling forward, Dean’s fingers dig into your forearms pulling you upright. “What were you thinking? That car almost hit you!” he shouts shaking you. Winded you glance towards Anna and Owen. Cas is currently embracing both of them and Sam stands with his arm over Jess’ shoulder.

“Owen. Car,” you pant desperately trying to suck in air.

“Are you a fucking idiot?” Dean yells shaking your upper body vehemently.

“Dean,” Cas warns.

“He … was … going,” you try and explain between gasps frustrated at your breathlessness.

“How could you be so fucking stupid?” he asks. Anger pulses through your body and you reflexively tear yourself form his grip before slapping him across the face. The blow is loud carrying across the driveway. You stare wide-eyed as Dean touches his cheek grimacing when his fingers dance over the bruise that is forming. Your heart pounds in your chest when you realize you slapped Dean in front of everyone.

Shaken by your outburst, you begin to apologize, “Dean…” you beg the words evaporating on your tongue when you see the dangerous glint in his eyes.

“We are leaving. Now,” he says in a dangerously soft voice. He digs his fingers into your upper arm dragging you to the car. Sam stands blocking the passenger seat wearing an reproachful expression. “Dean…” Sam begins.

“She sits in front,” he warns glaring at Sam until Sam finally moves.

Dropping you into the passenger seat he slams the door making his way to the driver side. He buckles his seatbelt, anger punctuating his every movement.

“Dean. I am so—” you begin.

“Enough!” he interrupts slamming his hand down on the steering wheel.

Hours later you feel the car swerve and hear Dean quickly shift gears. Slowly blinking you realize you are at the same diner you stopped at on the way to the retreat. Finding yourself alone in the car you scramble to get out. You close the passenger door and see Dean rummaging through the trunk. Your bag is open and he is pulling out a pair of jeans. His actions are short and he fights with the zipper of your suitcase cursing loudly.  Slamming the trunk closed, he stares at you as you watch him cautiously. “Come here,” he orders. Taking a step closer to him, you stare at the pavement. He gently tilts your chin up forcing you to look into his eyes. Steeling yourself for his fury you are stunned when he says, “I had no business talking to you like that ... and hearing you try and apologize to me after... I..." he trails off. When he sees the confusion in your eyes he continues, "I am sorry Veronica," stroking your jaw. You nod in understanding and he strokes your cheek. You close your eyes enjoying the feeling of his warm palm. Minutes pass before you glance up at him. “Come on,” he says reaching for your hand. He opens the door for you and leads you to the back of the restaurant. Handing you the jeans, he waits outside the bathroom while you change out of your mud-covered leggings. Abandoning them in the trashcan, you emerge, Dean’s hand hovering over your lower back as you walk towards Sam and Jess.

The waitress greets you all by name and after you have placed your order Sam clears his throat. “Veronica, I talked to Cas. He and Anna are convinced that wasn’t an accident,” he says apologetically.

“They think someone targeted us?” you ask.

“Yes, specifically you or Anna. Owen was probably just in the way,” Sam says trying to brush over the earlier incident.

You press your lips together deep in thought. “Tell me more about your relatives,” you instruct Sam.

He scans the diner checking to see if there are any other patrons. Confirming you are the only customers, he begins to describe every one of his relatives, especially those who have recently shown an interest in the company.

Dean watches you vigilantly as the three of you dig through the family tree. You don’t interrupt and ask important questions often engaging Jessica and asking her about her own experiences and first impressions. The sparkle in your eyes returns and he can tell you are sifting through the information and drawing your own conclusions. He chastises himself for the hundredth time. One half a second slower and Owen would have been hit. Just thinking about it leaves his throat dry. Watching you drag his nephew from the speeding car triggered a fear in him that he has never felt before. Instead of comforting you, he lashed out at you and went too far. With a sigh he rubs his jaw and tunes out, mentally plotting how he intends to keep you safe.

Some semblance of normalcy returns and the four of you return to the Impala. Jess falls asleep against Sam’s shoulder as he stares out the window. Dean relaxes behind the wheel and you watch the rolling pastures pass. The scenery soon gives way to highways and painfully slow city traffic.

“We are going to drop off Sam and Jess first,” Dean informs you.

Nodding you admire the posh neighborhood as Dean pulls up to a high rise. You step out onto the sidewalk and Dean pops the trunk unloading their suitcases as Sam helps Jess out. Pedestrians walk by and you hug Jess goodbye. “It was nice to meet you,” you say despondently unsure when or if you will see her again. She hugs you again and when she assures you she will be in touch, you observe her pale face and wonder if she has fully recovered. Sam steadies her putting an arm around her shoulder. “See you tomorrow,” he says pulling you in for a quick hug.

A head turns and quickly a man with a camera too large to be a tourist starts snapping pictures and shouting. “Jess! Jess! Over here,” he yells annoyingly. Sam pulls Jess closer to him, shielding her from the paparazzi as pedestrians begin to stop and stare some pulling out their phones. “Jess! You look pale. Are you sick? Are you pregnant? Jess do you have morning sickness?” he barrages. A crowd begins to form and Sam calls over a footman before extending his arm ushering Jess into the building. The footman struggles with the luggage and soon the crowd becomes disinterested. You turn back towards the Impala when the reporter shouts, “Dean! Dean Winchester. Is this your girlfriend?” before you fling the passenger door open sliding into the car. Dean abruptly merges into the traffic.

“I didn’t realize you were a celebrity,” you tease.

“That was unexpected,” Dean admits, “Usually Sammy is the one who has to deal with the press,” he confesses.

An awkward silence clouds the air. It is the end of a charade you should have never agreed to and emotions you aren’t sure how to reconcile. When you arrive at your building Dean unloads your luggage as you stand on the sidewalk. Conjuring the years of etiquette lessons, you force yourself to smile when Dean sets your suitcase on the curb. He rubs the back of his head and before he can open his mouth you tell him to have a goodnight and turn striding towards the entrance. It takes every ounce of self-control to resist turning around. When you finally reach your apartment you admire the neutral colors and cozy décor. With a sigh you fill a teakettle with water. Setting it on the stove, you amble to your walk-in closet pushing clothes aside. You enter the combination into the safe and when the door pops open you retrieve a black handgun. Closing the safe, you set the handgun on the counter just as the teakettle whistles.

Monday morning you walk into the office dressed in black ankle pants, black heels, a crisp white shirt, and black blazer, coffee in hand. Setting your coffee and purse on the desk, you shake the snow from your tousled hair and check to make sure the handgun is concealed before taking a seat. Dean watches you from his office realizing that if you look over you will catch him staring. You don’t. Gazing at your computer, you check your cell phone before rummaging through a file cabinet. When his phone rings he glances at the number and answers quickly.

It is almost noon when Dean knocks on your door. “Dean. How can I help you?” you ask with a smile. You half expect Sam to shuffle in after Dean and are disheartened when he isn’t there. “We need to talk,” he insists closing the door.

You clench your jaw, but continue smiling. The terms of the contract prohibit you from disclosing the location, individuals or events of the retreat. Determined to find the person threatening Cas and his family, you speculate you will no longer be a target once you aren't romantically associated with Dean. “I contracted a security firm on your behalf,” Dean states.

Alarmed your eyes widen, “Who did you hire?” you ask.

“John recommended L&J Security Enterprises,” Dean says watching you with a confused expression.

“You didn’t…” you begin.

“Veronica, someone tried to kill you yesterday!” Dean growls.

“Dean. Do you know who runs L&J Security?” you snap.

“Does it matter? John said they are the best,” he answers dismissively.

“Hiram Lodge runs L&J Security, Dean. As in my father Hiram Lodge,” you sigh.


	7. Chapter 7

You watch Dean’s face as he slowly comprehends he has hired your father to protect you. When you realize he is at a loss for words you demand, “What did you tell him?” annoyed with the turn of events.

“I requested a personal body guard for you. I am supposed to meet him tonight,” Dean stammers.

Massaging your temples with a sigh you clarify “What did you tell him about us Dean?” not bothering to hide your exasperation.

“I didn’t say anything and they didn’t ask,” Dean insists.

“Always the soul of discretion,” you whisper under your breath shaking your head in disbelief.

Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath you collect yourself.

“Tell the bodyguard to meet you at my apartment,” you order before locking your computer screen and gathering your purse.

“Where are you going?” Dean questions hastily.

“I am going to lunch,” you answer. Before Dean can respond you are quickly walking to the elevator bank jabbing the circular button before deciding to take the stairs.

The frigid air is bracing as you walk to a nearby coffeehouse. With your stomach in knots, you order a latte and take a seat facing the window. Anna’s chilling scream and Owen’s terrified expression echo in your head. Recalling Jessica’s pale countenance and blood staining Dean’s hand you clench your fist in anger. Angry with whoever is targeting Dean’s family. Angry with your father. Angry with yourself. After leaving your position at Lodge Enterprises you built a career, but now with aspirations of becoming the Chief of Marketing and Public Relations dashed, you resign yourself to reinventing yourself once more.

“Veronica? Veronica Lodge?” a honeyed voice calls.

Glancing at the stranger you immediately recognize Cheryl Blossom’s signature red tresses. “Cheryl,” you greet giving her a strained hug.

“You look well,” you acknowledge.

“I am just about to pick up the boys from school. The nanny called in sick,” Cheryl responds rolling her eyes. “Still trying to make it on your own I see,” she says glancing at your suit jacket. “Really Veronica I don’t know why you bother. After Jason died, Daddy was obsessed with preserving the Blossom legacy. He can’t wait for the twins to take over the company. It has caused quite a stir amongst the board. Nothing spurs an uproar like an upset in the family inheritance. That’s Daddy’s problem though and the boys could do much worse,” she finishes dragging her gaze over your outfit.

Amazed by her snobbery, you open your mouth ready to insist you won’t be treated like a broodmare when suddenly an idea forms in your mind.

“Anyways, luck will strike you soon enough!” Cheryl says blowing you a kiss.

You grab her arm and stare at her intensely, “Thank you so much, Cheryl,” you express sincerely.

“Of course. Anything V,” she croons leaving you dazed.

Digging through your purse you rush out of the café scrolling through your contacts. Punching the “Call” button the line rings before a secretary answers, “Office of Sam Winchester,” in a melodious voice.

“Hi. This is Veronica Lodge from marketing. Is Mr. Winchester available for a lunch appointment?” you inquire.

“Let me check, Ms. Lodge,” she answers politely. Seconds pass before she returns, “Mr. Winchester is free. He would like to know if you are having the usual?” she inquires and with a plan hatching you walk back to the office.

Expecting more resistance, you carefully construct your argument. When Sam agrees to your plan within the first ten minutes, you ask about Jess and he admits she hasn’t returned to work.

When lunch arrives he watches you unpack your salad and asks, “Are you sure you want to do this? We can find another way,” he probes.

“My father is involved now. Trust me what I am proposing will cross his mind. I would rather be the one to suggest it,” you divulge.

“Alright,” Sam agrees, “But remember you still need to convince your dad and Dean,” he reminds you.

“I can handle Daddy,” you insist.

You gather the empty salad containers while Sam puts his cell phone number in your phone. Handing it back to you he says, “Welcome to the family,” with a chuckle.

“It can’t be any worse than mine,” you sigh with a half-smile before letting him know you will be in touch.

Sitting in your kitchen, you glance at your cell phone checking the time. Dressed in over the knee socks, cotton shorts and a t-shirt paired with an oversized knit cardigan you sip wine enjoying the calm before the storm. A completely self-induced, self-inflicted storm. When the doorbell chimes, you rise shuffling to the door opening it slowly.

Standing in the doorway is a sight you never thought you would see. Hiram Lodge and Dean Winchester. “Hi Daddy,” you welcome tiptoeing to kiss one cheek and then the other.

“Hi Dean,” you smile gesturing for them to enter. “Veronica,” Dean mutters acknowledging you with a nod. You lead them to a large kitchen with modern stainless steel appliances that overlook the dining room. A sprawling wooden table with white upholstered chairs contributes to the lofty bright décor and compliments the beige living room set. Knit blankets and textured pillow sit on the couch creating a cozy feel.

“Please sit,” you urge while you open a cabinet and retrieve two more wine glasses.

Dressed in suits, your father and Dean relax appearing effortlessly at ease in your apartment. Hiram is seated at the head of the table and you glance at him before filling his glass. With his black hair neatly combed to the side, bronzed complexion and obsidian eyes you detect faint lines around his mouth that weren’t there the last time you saw him. Gripping the bottle, you fill Dean’s glass composing yourself before you take a seat and smile at your dad.

“ _Mija_ , it is so good to see you,” he says taking your hands in his.

“It’s good to see you too, Daddy,” you say sweetly.

“Imagine my surprise when Dean contacted us and requested a personal body guard,” he states.

“You come highly recommended by Mr. Winchester,” you praise carefully watching his face.

Unwavering he responds, “Well we are the best,” with a smile.

“Of course,” you add.

“Now tell me more about what is going on,” he urges.

You glance at Dean, “I accompanied Dean to the Winchester Consulting retreat and numerous attempts were made on my life and the lives of others,” you explain.

“I see,” your father responds with a frown.

“How generous of you to invite my daughter,” Hiram says coldly, glancing at Dean.

The slight is not lost on Dean and he bristles. “I agree. It is nice to be recognized for one’s loyalty,” you say dryly earning a glare from your father. You see the flicker of anger in his eyes before he suppresses it and then laughs.

Confused, Dean takes a sip of wine desperately trying to break the tension.

“ _Mijita_ , you have not changed at all. Impetuous as ever,” he says with a grin.

You flutter your eyelashes, “Funny you should say that Daddy, Dean and I may have given the impression we were on more familiar terms,” you say letting the sentence hang. When you notice the strain in his jaw you continue, “And then I thought why don’t we capitalize on the misunderstanding and perhaps use it to our advantage?” you suggest innocently before reaching for your glass.

You watch as understanding unfolds in your father’s eyes, startled when Dean says, “Absolutely not,” contributing to the conversation for the first time.

“I hired you to protect her! Someone already tried to kill Ronnie once,” Dean says angrily.

“A position she would not be in had you not invited her to this weekend getaway,” Hiram shoots back smoothly. “Besides, Veronica is more resilient than you give her credit for,” Hiram says, the compliment taking you by surprise.

“This is not happening. End of story,” Dean states.

“Dean you introduced me to your family as your girlfriend. Your father made it very clear he hopes we are married in front of all of Winchester Consulting’s stockholders. It is only a matter of time before that reporter outside of Jess’ apartment connects the dots,” you say insistently.

Your father watches the two of you, Dean’s reluctance apparent. “The public would naturally assume that your marriage would produce an heir,” Hiram adds.

“What’s a few more weeks of pretending to be in a relationship?” you ask with a half-smile attempting to relieve the awkwardness of the situation.

“What about your job?” Dean asks, disgusted he is even considering it.

“It works in our favor. At first the people will question why they have never seen us together, but relationships are against company policy,” you explain.

“So what you are just going to go on maternity leave?” Dean asks incredulously.

“No. Daddy is right. If we are engaged, people will fill in the gaps. Also, as of this afternoon I am no longer an employee of Winchester Consulting,” you murmur.

When both heads snap towards you, you realize your previous statement was not overlooked.

“What? You quit?” Dean shouts rising from the table. Your father cocks his head to the side and stares at you questioningly. “This isn’t happening. We are going to get you your job back!” Dean says passionately.

“It’s already done,” you say with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Besides, I think I am ready for something new,” you assert and the excitement in your father’s eyes unmistakable.

When the doorbell rings your father rises, “I will get it,” he says leaving you and Dean in the kitchen. You ignore his angry glare and pour yourself more wine. When your father returns he is standing next to a man with piercing blue eyes and jet black chin length hair. Staring at the newcomer you falter before flying out of your seat into his arms. “Joaquin!” you shout. A smile tugs at his lips and he picks you up and spins you around while your father watches with a grin.

“I didn’t think you were going to let just anyone be your personal body guard,” Hiram boasts as you pull Joaquin into the kitchen. “Although now with this new development, we may need to be more creative. Don’t you agree Dean?” he taunts.

Dean watches you struggle to reach a wineglass before Joaquin grabs it for you while the two of you chat in Spanish. Your face is bright with excitement and a laugh he has never heard before escapes your lips. He wishes he could bottle the sound and drink it every day. Joaquin holds the wine glass and you try and fill it, your hand shaking from giggling. Splashing wine on the ground you begin scolding him while somehow still laughing.

“You still have reservations,” Hiram says the sentence more of a statement than a question.

“I don’t like this,” Dean fumes beginning to feel outnumbered and manipulated.

“The fact that you were willing to go to such lengths to protect Veronica is admirable, but as I said earlier it is unnecessary,” Hiram reiterates.

“Veronica. Come here,” Hiram says severely immediately snuffing your laughter. Joaquin’s expression returns to the intimidating serpentine glare.  

Standing in front of your father, he pulls a handgun from his jacket and sets it on the table. Wide-eyed you stare at him silently begging him to stop. With the last move of the evening in the game you two inevitably play, he says “Time” prompting you to strip and reassemble the weapon in seconds. “Again,” he orders before you dismantle the weapon quickly. “Again,” he repeats and you pull the pieces apart before sliding them back together in record time.

“See. Nothing to worry about,” Hiram gloats while you keep your gaze focused on the gun. 


	8. Chapter 8

The doorbell chimes incessantly and you drag yourself out of bed. Flinging it open, you find Joaquin standing in the entryway with a smirk.

“What?” you demand.

“Sleep well?” he asks.

Nursing your hangover, you slept through the morning well into the afternoon. Shortly after Hiram’s power play, all three men left leaving you with almost an entire bottle of wine to finish. Joaquin begins to rummage through your kitchen finding a container of coffee grounds.

“We are going to dinner tonight,” he says measuring tablespoons of coffee before dumping them into the coffee maker.

“We are?” you ask.

“Yeah. You, me, Dean and Kevin,” he answers fiddling with the buttons and then opening your refrigerator and smelling a container of milk that is practically new.

“Kevin’s in town?” you ask as you affectionately push his shoulder. “It’s practically new,” you scold.

“He is. Hiram suggested we double date,” he says while grabbing two coffee mugs from a cabinet before finally turning towards you with a concerned expression.

“I don’t like this. Why is my father being charitable?” you muse. Grabbing a spoon you ask, “Joaquin, why do you still work for Daddy? You know he is dirty,” acknowledging the truth nobody ever wants to talk about.

“Actually, I am the only one left from FP’s crew. As far as I can tell, your father has turned a new leaf,” he says crossing his arms over his chest.

“Interesting,” you muse as your stir milk into the mug. “Is that why you came here? To convince me my father has shed his skin?” you ask, eyes narrowed in distrust.

“No. I came over here so we could catch up and not bore our dates to death tonight,” he says with a mischievous smile.

“Good. Come on. Let’s go sit and catch up,” you insist.

You and Joaquin fall asleep after talking for hours. Awkwardly sprawled on the couch, you wake squinting at the setting sun before realizing you have to get ready for dinner. “Joaquin. Wake up,” you order tossing a pillow at him. When he murmurs incoherently you tell him he is the worst bodyguard ever as you place your coffee mugs in the sink. Joaquin says his goodbyes, leaving you to change before dinner.

Sitting in the front of the Impala engrossed with the soft glow of the white lights twinkling on the pavement, you watch as the expensive neighborhood begins to fill with patrons and loud music. When your attempt at polite conversation produced monosyllabic answers, you decided to stop trying. Grateful for the leather jacket, you stare as woman in fur coats, slinky dresses and everything in between wait outside clubs with velvet ropes. The outfits of the men escorting them are just as varied from jeans to suits, all of them waiting to spend ludicrous amounts of money and you are no different. Dressed in a floor length black backless halter dress tied in a large bow at the nape of your neck, you adjust the billowy skirt as the Impala slowly creeps towards the restaurant. The valet attendant extends his hand you step out of the sleek car pulling your shoulders back before smiling and waiting for Dean. He appears to be having a lively conversation with the valet attendant currently holding his car keys and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. With your hair pulled back in a high tousled ponytail ending just past your shoulders, you know the two of you make an impressive couple even if you aren’t talking to one another. Wrapping your hand around Dean’s upper arm, he escorts you into the restaurant and you tell yourself not to let his sour mood ruin your evening with your oldest and perhaps best friends.

“Wait a minute, Ronnie was in a band?” Dean says hunched over consumed by a fit of laughter.

“I kid you not, Dean. Cat ears and everything,” Kevin shouts taking a sip of wine as tears of laughter shoot out of Dean’s eyes and he tosses his head back roaring with laughter.

“It was definitely a sight to see,” Joaquin adds with a chuckle.

“You two! Kevin hosted the variety show! It was high school, okay? We all had our little quirks,” you protest laughing at the gleam in Joaquin’s eye.

“Variety show?” he asks Kevin with a raised bow.

After a stony beginning to the evening, Kevin has Dean in stitches recounting your misadventures. Joaquin, usually uptight, is smiling smugly enjoying himself immensely at your expense. With Joaquin’s arm draped around Kevin’s shoulder, you watch while they launch into yet another drama. Although Joaquin is practically family, you were apprehensive at the thought of reuniting with Kevin. Almost inseparable during high school, the two of you lost touch and it was painful to think the miserable existence that was Riverdale High was the only thing keeping you together. Returning to the present you smile brightly at three men, your heart doing odd flip flops at the sight of Kevin vividly recounting a mishap under the adoring gaze of Joaquin while Dean laughs clutching his side begging him to stop.

“And then there was Varchie,” Kevin begins.

“I am going to go use the ladies' room,” you laugh raising your hands in mock offense.

“Come on Ronnie,” Dean teases, pulling you into his lap.

“I am going to sit this one out,” you insist with a smile patting his chest before gracefully sliding out of his lap. You glance over your shoulder and find him staring at you with a smile. He gives you a wink and you shake your head in disbelief.

Returning to the table you notice Dean’s seat is empty and the mood is tense. Joaquin clenches his jaw looking murderous and Kevin sips his wine clearly irritated.

“What’s wrong?” you ask standing in front of the table.

“Just some unpleasantness of the homophobic variety,” Kevin says rolling his eyes.

“Who?” you demand.

“Ronnie...” Joaquin begins.

You raise your hand to shush him. “Who Kevin?” you ask angrily.

“Veronica” Dean says sharply “It’s done. Don’t make it worse,” he whispers resting his hand on your back, the other holding your chair out for you. Your eyes meet Joaquin’s and you recognize the wordless request.

“Fine,” you say softly.

“What would you like to do? We can find another bar or we can stay,” Dean asks Kevin.

“I am the gay son of a small town sheriff. This is nothing a little champagne can’t fix, right Dean?” Kevin teases.

Dean smiles and signals to the waiter, “1841 Veuve Clicquot,” he orders and when the bottle pops he toasts, “To friends, the family you chose for yourself,” with a smile.

When Dean walks you to your apartment you offer, “Want to come in? I am all out of Verve Clicquot, but I have beer,” attempting to dispel the awkwardness in the car.

“Sure,” he agrees slipping out of his suit jacket before placing it over a kitchen chair.

You hang your jacket in the closet and open the refrigerator. Dean takes a seat at a stool next to the kitchen island and you twist the cap off of a beer setting it in front of him before pushing yourself up so you are sitting on the kitchen counter.

“So Varchie?” he asks as you bring the bottle to your lips and choke.

Between coughs you tease, “Hey! I was never engaged,” watching him grimace as if in pain.

“Low blow,” he groans.

“How did you propose?” you ask curiously after your coughing fit subsides.

“Oh, it was perfect. Charlie is the best. I have known her since we were this high,” he says motioning about four feet off the ground.

“I used to joke that she and Sam would braid each other’s hair,” he says with a raised eyebrow before taking another sip of beer. 

“Anyway. It was New Year’s Eve and we were at this fancy party. The whole nine yards. Champagne. Fireworks. Tuxedos. Surrounded by her family and mine At midnight I just got down on one knee and asked her. I even had the band all queued up. Flawless,” he says pointing his beer at you to emphasize his point.

“That sounds awful!” you cringe while laughing.

“What do you mean awful?” he asks pointing to his ear as if he misheard you.

“Surrounded by all of her family? All eyes on her? All that attention?” you insist eyes bright.

“What? No. Girls love that kind of stuff. They write about it in their diaries,” Dean insists with a furrowed brow.

“Dean, that’s the problem. Their diaries. Girls grow up!” you tease.

“Well she did cry when I popped the question. Like a lot more than I thought was normal... and then she told me she was in love with someone else and I thought it was another dude…” he rambles. “So you are telling me girls don’t like that kind of stuff?” Dean asks confused.

“Everyone is different. I don’t know Charlie, but if I had to guess she probably felt overwhelmed and pressured to say yes,” you say sincerely.

“That’s possible, because I sure as hell felt a lot of pressure,” Dean adds.

“So how should I propose to you?” Dean asks.

Taken by surprise you joke, “Over burgers and a milkshake" with a smile.

“Noted,” Dean says lifting his beer in agreement.


	9. Chapter 9

The elevator doors open and you walk into the elegant foyer intent on demanding answers.

“Veronica!” a secretary squeaks.

“Sophia, is Daddy in?” you ask.

“He is, but he is with a client,” she explains.

“Who?” you question.

“Veronica! What a pleasant surprise,” John’s deep voice reverberates as he walks towards you with your father at his side.

“John, I wasn’t expecting you here,” you greet while smiling politely, your heart ricocheting in your chest.

“Mary and I are in town and I couldn’t miss the opportunity to meet the man himself,” he says jovially while squeezing your father’s shoulder.

Hiram smiles and says, “It was a pleasure to meet you John,” extending his hand.

John shakes your father’s hand and then stops himself before leaving. “Oh Veronica, Mary and I would love it if you and Dean joined us for dinner tomorrow,” he solicits.

“Of course,” you answer demurely.

“Well, I am off,” he says before departing.

Hiram leads you to his office shutting the door as you ask, “Daddy what was John Winchester doing here?” watching him with a cynical expression.

“First tell me, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Hiram says taking a seat behind his massive rosewood desk.

Your eyes narrow distrustfully.

“You haven’t been back since you quit, Veronica,” he states.

“Tell me you had nothing to do with that ugliness at dinner,” you insist.

“Oh. Yes, Joaquin came to see me this morning,” he says leaning back in his chair while tenting his hands. “I will admit I insisted Dean invite Joaquin and Kevin, but I had nothing to do with that ugliness as you so articulately described,” he mocks.

“Why would you force Dean into inviting Joaquin and Kevin?” you ask with an incredulous tone.

 “ _Mija_ , they are your oldest friends! Don’t you want to see how he conducts himself?” Hiram says gesticulating vigorously.

“You mean because they are gay! God, Daddy what year is it?” you exclaim.

“Yes. Fine. But I know how important they are to you and I will say I am impressed. I respect a man who won’t be cowed,” your father says forcefully.

“Daddy you do realize I am not marrying him right? Are you even looking for the killer?” you goad.  

“Veronica, please do not insult my professionalism. Just yesterday Dean was here and we discussed a new development,” your father explains.

“Yesterday? Wait, what new development?” you ask. Your question is met with hard silence and you continue, “Daddy don’t treat me like everybody else because we both know I am not,” you say fiercely.

“John Winchester had an affair with a woman named Kate Milligan. She is no longer alive,” Hiram says gravely.

“Was she murdered?” you ask horrified.

“No,” your father says rising from his desk before pouring himself an ounce of whiskey. “It’s not a pleasant story, Veronica,” he says after swallowing the amber liquid.

You stare at him unwaveringly. “She spiraled after John ended it. She died alone in her sleep after drinking herself into a coma and never waking up,” he says adjusting his suit cuffs.

“Daddy, that’s awful,” you say softly crossing your arms over your chest.

“According to John the affair ended years ago, but she did not live a happy life. What was left of it,” your father says walking towards you.

“That’s why John was here,” you murmur.

Seconds pass in silence. “We are doing everything we can, _Mija_. My men are at the Winchester estate interviewing the wait staff. It isn’t as easy to hide in a small town. We will catch the person responsible,” he reassures.

You nod in understanding.

“Anything else _Palomita_?” he asks.

“No, Daddy,” you whisper.

Still rattled, you leave L&J Security and stare at Sam’s name flashing on your buzzing phone.

“Hello?” you answer.

“Oh thank God,” Sam says desperately.

“Is everything okay?” you ask waving down a cab.

“Yes. I need your help though. Can you come over?” Sam asks.

“Of course. I am on my way,” you tell him.

You knock on the apartment door and Sam immediately answers. Frazzled, he rests both hands on top of his head. “What’s wrong?” you ask noticing his agitated state.

“It’s Jess,” he says leading you through the house to a lavishly decorated bedroom.

You find Jess propped up in bed with what seems like a million pillows under her back.

“Jess, what’s wrong?” you ask slipping out of your coat.

“Sam! He expects me to lie here all week with no company,” Jess complains.

“I don’t unders—“ you begin before Sam interrupts, “Dr. Mijares said you need bed rest! You were poisoned and are pregnant!” he shouts prompting Jess to throw the closest pillow at him.

“Jess you’re pregnant?” you ask with a smile.

She smiles beatifically at you. “Yes and it sucks,” she says glaring at Sam.

Brushing over your annoyance at Sam’s definition of an emergency, you gently usher him out of the room before walking back towards Jess. Dragging over the vanity chair, you sit and take her hand between yours.  

“Tell me everything,” you encourage.

“I didn’t know I was pregnant until Dr. Mijares examined me. When he told me I had been poisoned and I am pregnant I was so scared, Ronnie. Sam was almost out of his mind,” she says and you gently push her hair from her face.

“The baby is okay though?” you ask hesitantly.

“Yes. I didn’t eat very much because I haven’t been feeling well. The baby is fine, but I am on bed rest and I know it sounds terrible but I am losing my mind,” she cries.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you croon. The next hour passes and the two of you make a list of pregnancy books and you promise to personally deliver tomorrow. Moving on to baby names, you paint her nails while brainstorming.

“Brad?” you ask.

Jess crinkles her nose.

“George?” you suggest.

Jess gags.

“Samuel?” you ask with a smile.

“Samuel” she says testing the name with a pensive expression. There is a soft knock at the door and Sam walks in with a tray of iced tea followed by Mary.

“Mary!” Jess exclaims.

“How is my beautiful pregnant daughter-in-law?” Mary asks. “Sam called me,” she beams.

You jump up from the chair taking the tray from Sam’s hands. With thoughts of John’s unfaithfulness still swirling in your mind, you avoid her gaze.

“Ronnie!” she greets warmly as Sam slips out of the room.

She gives you a squeeze while you pour iced tea into a glass. You turn and hand one to Jess and then fill the other. “You are going to love being a mom, Jess,” Mary says with a smile taking the glass you hand her.

Mary relaxes in a settee and you resume painting Jess’ nails. “Tell me about Sam when he was little,” Jess says and you are grateful to have something to keep your hands busy.

“Sam and Dean were the cutest little boys,” Mary says wistfully. “Sam had these huge brown eyes and you just wanted to give him anything he asked for. I couldn’t say no,” she laughs. You smile watching her eyes sparkle, “Dean had such a temper. He was so moody,” she continues and you and Jess burst into laughter. Finally settling down she confesses, “They were such mama’s boys,” shaking her head. “There was no telling Dean his mom was not perfect. You look at them and see your husband and your boyfriend, but I look at them and see my little boys,” she reminisces sadly before taking Jess’ free hand. “But enough about me. What are you thinking for names?” she asks.

Jess chats happily with Mary and the list of potential names grows. When Jess yawns the two of you decide to leave and promise to visit. Walking out of the room, Sam abruptly stands from the sofa as if he is not quite sure what to do with himself.

“Thank you,” he sighs.

“How are you holding up?” Mary inquires.

“I’ve been better,” he says running his hands through his hair again before gazing longingly at the bedroom door.

“We will visit and keep her busy,” Mary says comfortingly.

“Thanks Mom,” he says hugging her before turning to you, “Thanks Ronnie,” he insists.

“No problem,” you smile squeezing his arm.

After spending a quiet night in you try and sleep. Restless, you turn over energetically fluffing your pillow before you fall into a fitful sleep with lucid dreams.

_Winchester Consulting is a family business_

_He is my brother, Ronnie_

_Family is everything_

_She died alone in her sleep after drinking herself into a coma and never waking up_

_There was no telling Dean his mom was not perfect_


	10. Chapter 10

Gasping for breath, you wake from your sleep, sweat soaking your t-shirt. Uneasy, you stare out the window. In the middle of the night, your neighborhood is eerily still. The hardwood floor is cold under your bare feet. Powering on your laptop, you log on, the bright screen illuminating your face. You enter your credentials into L&J Security database, surprised when the home page appears.

Dawn approaches and you reach for your cell phone scrolling until you find Dean’s number. When your phone chirps, you read the message before stripping off your pajamas and walking to the shower. Your skin flushes from the scalding water. After wrapping yourself in a fluffy bath towel you slip on a white tank top and cotton shorts.

Minutes later, Dean is at your apartment. The scruffy stubble on his face, disheveled hair and plaid button down give him a rugged appearance. Expecting overturned lamps and chairs, he glances around the room and asks, “Ronnie what’s going on?” with a concerned expression.  You wear a pensive expression as you cross the room, your wet hair dripping water down your back.

“I downloaded your L&J case files. Daddy never revoked my access,” you begin hastily as you tug him towards the bedroom.

Confused, Dean asks, “You used to work for L&J?” scanning the papers scattered across your crumpled bed sheets and the discarded clothes over your settee.

“Technically I worked for Lodge Enterprises, but it doesn’t matter,” you continue urgently, “We have been assuming whoever is behind this is trying to steal the company from you. Daddy has been investigating your family beginning with the ones Sam and Jess find suspicious,” you say hunched over the mess.

“I didn’t realize you were helping with the investigation,” Dean says crossing his arms over his chest.

“It has been a while since I have done this,” you admit carelessly and Dean glances at you in disbelief. “I don’t think you’re the target and I don’t think this is about Winchester Consulting. Poisoning someone at dinner, shooting someone from across a clearing, vehicular homicide. The first two attempts were distant and removed, the last sloppy. After three failed attempts, the smart thing to do would be pivot to a smear campaign. Ruin your image and paint you as unsuitable to lead. Instead, they want your family to suffer. It feels personal,” you state as you continue to flip over sheets of paper and glossy headshots of the Winchester family. 

“I reviewed the file on Kate Milligan.  She was a nurse in Minnesota. I checked the hospital records and eight months after John ended the affair a Jane Doe gave birth two counties over. Shortly after Kate’s death, a boy named Adam became a warden of the state after he was discovered wandering aimlessly downtown. He had a host of medical and psychological issues and was never adopted. He bounced around foster homes each one worst than the last. The day he turned eighteen, he left Minnesota,” you summarize. Finally locating a small portrait of a young boy you pass it to Dean. “Dean, I think you have a half-brother,” you share.

“No. John would have known,” Dean says adamantly while staring at the picture of six-year-old Adam Milligan.

“Dean you come from a very wealthy family. Any one of them could have hired ‘a specialist’ and you would already be dead. These attacks were not the work of a professional,” you say assertively.

“I already sent everything to Daddy. He agrees and his men are going to continue to conduct surveillance on your family, but Adam is their new working lead,” you explain gently.

Dean sits on your bed with his head in his hands. “I am sorry. I know this is hard to hear,” you apologize taking a seat next to him.

“What do we do now?” he asks turning towards you.

“Daddy gave me an earful. He said we are not garnering as much media publicity. He thinks an engagement coupled with John’s very public stance on family could send your half-brother over the edge,” you rationalize.

“Is that what we want?” Dean asks.

“I don’t know. He hasn’t killed anyone yet. Maybe he can be reasoned with,” you urge half-heartedly.

“Daddy will find him. I promise,” you reassure. “We will go to dinner tonight with your parents and maybe...” you begin not realizing you are rambling.

Dean watches you grasp for words noticing the bags under your eyes, your thin clothes and the goose bumps on your arms. “Veronica have you been up all night?” he asks.

“I couldn’t sleep and when I realized I still had access… most of the night…yes,” you clarify.

With a sigh he begins collecting the papers covering your bed. “I am going to make some calls. I’ll wake you in a few hours,” he insists.

“It’s okay. I just need some coffee,” you say between yawns.

“Veronica. Bed,” Dean orders smoothing the crumpled blankets. You tuck your arm into your chest and sink into the blankets as Dean pushes your wet hair form your face.

Hours later Dean whispers “Veronica,” shaking you gently.

“Hey you,” you croon while stretching. 

“I talked to John and Hiram. You and I are going to spend the day together,” he says taking your hand.

“Okay,” you answer. 

“I made some coffee. We can go to breakfast and then do whatever you want,” Dean explains.

“Jess asked me to pick up some pregnancy books for her,” you tell him. “Are we still going to dinner with your parents?” you ask.

“Change of plans. I hope you like basketball. Come on,” he urges pulling you out of bed.

After breakfast the two of you spend hours at the bookstore before visiting Sam and Jess. Dean hails a cab and soon you are standing outside of the city’s sprawling sports arena. Fans stream into the venue as the two of you wait for John and Mary to appear. Dressed in rip black jeans, a silk blush tank top and black leather jacket, you stand nervously. “Are you sure your parents didn’t mind the change of plans?” you ask uncertainly.

“Dean! Ronnie!” John shouts. You smile at Mary before giving her a hug. You watch John pat Dean on the back and smile. “Dean, I am so glad you invited us! How were you able to get tickets?” Mary asks as Dean holds the door open ushering his parents inside. “Not just any tickets. Courtside,” Dean boasts smiling at you.

You squeeze his arm as the four of you make your way to your seats. Watching raptly as players sprint back and forth, gym shoes squeaking against the court, the buzzer sounds.  Half time begins and you ask Mary if she would like a bottle of water before standing. Dean gently pulls you back into your seat and you frown at him in confusion. Images of couple’s appear on the jumbotron screen and you watch as they kiss eliciting applause. When John and Mary appear overhead, you smile at them watching John plant a light kiss on Mary’s mouth before she blushes. The camera shifts to the right and suddenly you see yourself on camera. Immediately turning to Dean you laugh and kiss him chastely before he cradles your face gently deepening the kiss.

When the camera doesn’t immediately pan to another a couple, you watch as Dean stands and reaches into his pocket. Your heart thunders loudly in your chest and your breathing is shallow. Senses flooded with panic, you scan the auditorium as cell phones flash capturing your shocked expression. Turning back towards Dean you find him on one knee staring at you and holding a large diamond. Your heart feels brittle as if it is going to shatter. Watching him with wide eyes, he stares at you and asks, “Marry me?” with a questioning expression. Forcing a delicate smile on your face you answer, “Of course,” realizing too late you have fallen in love with Dean Winchester.  


	11. Chapter 11

In those two minutes, standing on the basketball court with your face broadcasted on the screen, you accepted you had fallen in love. It didn’t feel like falling as much as live wires connecting with your heart. The pain searing, spreading through your chest while all you can do is smile. After photographers snapped photos and Dean fielded questions, the camera mercifully panned to the half time show. You finally return to your seat where Mary pulls you into a hug and admires your ring. Folding your hands neatly in your lap, you tamp down your emotions, watching the shot clock desperate for the night to end.

After a silent cab ride, Dean walks you to your door and with a quick kiss on the cheek says goodbye. You lock the door and lean back against it staring at the ceiling as you sink to the floor. Sitting in the darkness you realize every kiss, every glance, every caress will be a torturous lie until Adam is found. It is almost midnight when you grab your jacket and hail a cab, deciding this has to end.

The building is silent save for the creaky elevator. The doors open and you see light from Daddy’s office flooding the dark lobby. Entering the room, you watch Hiram vacantly staring out the window with a glass of whiskey inches from his hand. “Veronica. I am told congratulations are in order,” he says absently.

“How did you know?” you ask.

“Friends at the local newspaper,” he explains finally turning towards you while sliding the tabloid forward. “ _The Register_ will publish anything these days,” he says flippantly.

“Tomorrow’s newspaper complete with photos of you and Dean at the game and a wildly speculative piece on your purchases earlier today at the bookstore. Unless there is something you want to tell me...,” he says watching you carefully after pouring more whiskey into his tumbler. 

“No, Daddy,” you sigh. “I am not pregnant,” you clarify crossing your arms over your chest.

“Then what has prompted this late night visit?” he asks returning to his massive leather chair.

You stare at him before beginning, “I want to come back to Lodge Enterprises...”.

“ _Mija_ , that’s wonder—”

“And I want to run the Winchester investigation,” you finish.

“Veronica, I have assured Dean I am personally managing his case,” your father says gravely.

“Pursuing a lead I gave you! After I practically handed you a short list of suspects after running reconnaissance at the retreat,” you counter.

Clenching your jaw while rubbing your bleary eyes you urge, “Daddy this has to end. I can’t...” your voice cracking. You stare up at the ceiling struggling to compose yourself. Determined not to act like the petulant child you once were, you clear your throat and explain, “I have a plan,” watching the curiosity spark in his eyes before he extinguishes it.

He stares at you and weighs the options in his mind. He can’t deny your experience and natural instincts even if they are normally accompanied by outrageous schemes.

“Fine. The Winchester account is yours. You have two days,” he says curtly.

“That’s all I need,” you assure with a sigh of relief. “Get ready. You are going to throw me an engagement party, Daddy,” you explain before striding out of his office.

—

_48 Hours_

At almost one in the morning, all of the lights are on in your apartment while you stand in the center of your bedroom staring at your laptop. A knock at the door pulls you away and you open it expectantly.

“You look like shit,” Joaquin says as you open the door.

“I text you SOS at one in the morning and the first thing you tell me is I look like shit?” you nag.

“Why am I here Veronica?” Joaquin asks irately, glancing around the room.

“Daddy gave me the Winchester case,” you explain turning back towards your laptop staring at the blinking screen and crossing your arms over your chest.

“You’re working for Hiram again? Your father is personally managing that case. The Winchesters are a huge client,” Joaquin insists walking further into your room.

“He was overseeing the case. It’s mine. At least for the next 48 hours,” you say rubbing your arm frowning at the screen.  

Joaquin glances at the computer screen and then sits in your bed. “So what’s the plan?” he asks resting his elbows on his knees.

“I need three security teams briefed and ready to go by tomorrow night. Don’t pick all bruisers either. They stick out. Recruit from the old neighborhood if you have to,” you order.

“Stick out? What are you talking about?” Joaquin says running his fingers through his hair. You turn towards Joaquin and begin pacing. “While we were at the retreat Dean was so convinced one of his family members was trying to steal the company, I was asking who when I should have been asking how. Joaquin, do you remember any of the servants at Lodge mansion? Name one groundskeeper, cleaning lady or valet,” you question.  

“Veronica ... I ...,” Joaquin falters.

“Exactly! I lived there for ten years! Ten years and I cannot remember one person! We don’t see the people standing right in front of us. That’s how he did it. With such an exclusive event that’s the only way he could have gotten so close. That is why Daddy is going to throw Dean and I an engagement party tomorrow night at the hotel downtown,” resting your hands on your hips.

“So what you want me to rustle up some guys and tell them to brush off their tuxedos?” Joaquin asks staring up at you questioningly.

“Not exactly. Since it is such an private event, Hiram Lodge will be using his own catering service,” you contend.

“Veronica, what if this doesn’t work?” Joaquin probes rubbing his face in exasperation.

“It will work. It has to work,” you swear.

—

_36 Hours_

After only a few hours sleep, you wake and begin setting your plan in motion. The hotel was gracious enough to accommodate your request especially after hearing the name Lodge. With most of the party planned or delegated, you scroll through your contacts finding a number you haven’t called in years. The phone rings and you walk to your closet running your hands over the soft fabrics of your clothes.

“Cheryl Blossom,” Cheryl answers.

“Hi Cheryl, it’s Veronica,” you greet.

“Veronica! Congratulations on your engagement!” she says melodiously.

“Thank you,” you say with a smile. 

“Am I also to assume congratulations are in order for your pregnancy?” Cheryl retorts. 

“Actually, I have a favor to ask you,” you say evenly.

“Yes?” Cheryl asks.

“Daddy is throwing me a huge engagement party tomorrow night at the hotel downtown. It’s such short notice. I begged him to reschedule but …” you begin.

“Oh! You are worried nobody will show to celebrate your betrothal and you will be a laughing stock?” Cheryl queries.

“Well, I wouldn’t quite put it quite like tha—” you say laughing.

“Don’t worry V. Send me the guest list and I will take care of it,” she assures.

Turning abruptly in the closet scanning your clothes, you state, “Thank you Cheryl,” touched by her kindness.

“Of course! Veronica, I know our lives took different paths after high school, but I am glad you called. I missed you,” she says earnestly. 

You freeze stopping in front of the black leather jacket with a green double-headed snake. Stroking the soft leather you whisper, “I missed you too Cheryl,” with a sigh.


	12. Chapter 12

_30 Hours_

Dean sits in the Impala watching you exit the bodega with a large brown paper bag. “You didn’t have to buy the whole bodega,” he lectures as you slide into the Impala setting the bag at your feet.

“All I bought was crayons, a coloring book, beer and dessert,” you explain as you rummage through the bag. Paper crinkling over the low classic rock playing from the speakers.

“Dessert?” Dean asks while you fasten your seatbelt.

“Yeah. Pie. Everyone likes pie right? Besides if I had known we were going to Cas’ for dinner I would have shopped earlier and maybe not worn a mini skirt,” you admonish pulling the black dress down over your thighs.

“Whatever. You look good,” Dean says from behind the wheel glancing over at you. The long sleeves and mock turtle neck contrast the clingy fabric hugging the smooth planes of your stomach and curve of your hips. In minutes you pull up to Cas’ brownstone. Dean rings the doorbell for a second time as you shiver, his coat draped over your shoulders.

“Dean. Veronica. Welcome. Owen and Anna are in the kitchen,” Cas greets taking Dean’s coat gesturing down the hall. You scan the cozy entryway, green plants occupying every available space and colorful wallpaper decorating the walls. 

Dean walks down the hall towards a bright kitchen and you find yourself standing in front of a large dining table. Owen is seated, coloring while Anna rummages through cabinets behind a kitchen island. “Hi Owen,” you say awkwardly before digging through the brown paper bag Dean is holding. You haven’t seen Owen since you tackled him pulling him out of the path of a speeding car. Unsure of whether he still remembers the happier memories, you finally retrieve the coloring book and crayons.

“I brought you something,” you offer lamely crouching down holding it out towards him. He catches you by surprise when he barrels towards you wrapping his arms around your neck leaving you holding the crayons in one hand and coloring book in another. “I am happy to see you too,” you smile.

“So that’s all it takes then, huh?” Dean teases as Owen releases you and smiles up at Dean. Dean lifts him easily with his free arm and Owen wraps his arms around his neck. “Hi Dean,” he shyly greets.

Standing you turn and find Anna flipping through take out menus. “Hi Anna. Thank you for inviting us,” you acknowledge.

“Of course. I hope you like Chinese,” she says her eyes twinkling.

“I love Chinese,” Dean interrupts hugging her before unpacking the rest of the groceries from the bag. Owen tugs your hang and you walk towards the table and help him open the box of crayons. You inhale deeply and hold it under his nose for him to smell while Anna and Dean make a list of dishes to order.

“Oh and dumplings!” Dean adds.

Owen points to a picture of a bee in an overgrown field and you pick up a crayon and begin coloring watching him out of the corner of your eye. “I saw you in the paper,” Owen murmurs and the green crayon in your hand freezes. “Oh really?” you ask.

“Yes. Congratulations on your engagement,” Cas says walking into the kitchen as Anna leaves with her cell phone and takeout menu in hand. “Owen saw your picture at the basketball game. _The Register_ ran an article,” Cas clarifies.

“Cas said you are going to marry Uncle Dean,” Owen states. Before you can respond Cas interjects, “First of all it is Dad, not Cas and yes they are going to get married, which reminds me, Dean you may want to invest in dancing lessons,” Cas says turning towards Dean.

Dean takes a long swig of beer before standing from the kitchen counter. “What? Cas you have seen me dance. I dance every year at the reunion,” Dean sputters.

“That is exactly why I am recommending an instructor. If I am not mistaken, the bride and groom dance in front of everyone, correct? You don’t want to embarrass Veronica,” Cas says in his raspy voice. You press your lips together and continue to color trying not to laugh. 

“Veronica, apple of my eye, please come here so we can prove Cas wrong,” Dean says with his arm extended. You share a giggle with Owen before walking towards him and taking his hand. Resting your hand on his shoulder, he pulls you close to his chest before guiding you around the room. You laugh while following his graceful movements smiling when reels you back in from a twirl. “Who needs lessons now?” Dean taunts.

“I want to dance!” Owen exclaims and Cas chuckles before picking up the young boy. When Anna returns she finds the four of you dancing around the kitchen. “Kitchen dance party!” she laughs taking Owen in her arms sandwiching him between her and Cas. After switching partners and alternating between the waltz, salsa, and your failed attempts to teach Dean merengue the doorbell finally chimes. “Food’s here!” Dean exclaims. You clutch your side still laughing trying to remember the last time you felt so carefree.

You help Anna clear the table and set out plates, silverware and chopsticks as Cas and Dean unload white Chinese takeout containers. Dishes are passed around the table and Dean piles food onto your plate. “Dean,” you scold gently giving his arm a squeeze before he can serve you more fried rice. Bringing the beer bottle to your lips, you are completely surprised when Cas says, “It is good to see you Veronica. You look a little run down,” in a gravely tone.

You lift your eyebrows in surprise. “I have just been working a lot,” you respond politely avoiding his gaze by searching for a napkin. “Has Dean been keeping you busy?” Cas probes.

“Actually, I don’t work for Winchester Consulting anymore. I am back at L&J Security,” you explain. 

“Back? You used to work for L&J Security” Cas questions his chopsticks poised over his plate.

“Cas, come on man. What is with the twenty questions?” Dean says grabbing a dumpling with his chopsticks. His tone is friendly, but you can see the tick in his jaw. 

“Yes, I worked for L&J Security years ago,” you answer preparing yourself for the next question.

“Why did you leave?” Cas continues watching you intently as he takes a bite.

You clear your throat focusing on the pile of food Dean has heaped onto your plate. “My mom died a few years ago. After the accident, Daddy and I had a bit of a falling out,” you say lightly. Taking a deep breath you keep your voice light before looking up at Cas. “It’s okay,” you interrupt before he can apologize.

“It was a long time ago,” you assure with a composed smile. “These dumplings are great,” you say gently squeezing Dean’s thigh reassuringly after his expression darkens in agitation.

“We have been ordering from Chang’s for years. I am not much of a cook. You would think Owen would know how to use chopsticks by now,” Anna chimes in redirecting the conversation giving you knowing glance.

Hours later after the Chinese food is gone, pie consumed and beer finished, you and Dean hug Cas and Anna goodbye. “Anna and I are very much looking forward to tomorrow’s party,” Cas says wrapping his arm around Anna’s shoulder. “It is going to be great,” you say lamely your euphoric bubble bursting reminding you of reality. 

As soon as Dean closes the passenger door and slides behind the wheel he interjects, “I am sorry about Cas and all his questions,” his hands gripping the wheel.

“Dean what I told Cas was only partially true,” you admit your hands twisting in your lap. “The police report said it was an accident. My mother was high on painkillers and she drove herself off a bridge. The thing is my mother didn’t do drugs. Daddy went crazy after…” you trail off pulling Dean’s leather jacket tighter over your shoulders.

“Is that how you know how to dismantle a gun in under three seconds?” Dean asks easing the Impala onto the highway.

“Kind of,” you answer vaguely staring out the window. “I just thought maybe telling you might help explain why I do the things I do. Everyone looks at me and sees Daddy’s little girl,” you say wistfully.

Dean watches with a concerned expression as you continue to watch the city pass by realizing the poised perfect young woman he assumed you were turned out to be so much more. 


	13. Chapter 13

_24 Hours_

Dean walks you to the door of your apartment and you relinquish his jacket. Cas’ words were a sharp reminder of the work left to be done before the party and your mind is racing mentally organizing the tasks at hand. Deep in thought, you are surprised when Dean’s hand gently cups your face, tilting your gaze up towards him. “Veronica,” he says under his breath stroking your jaw with his thumb. He presses his firm lips against yours and all you can think of is his mouth against yours. Pain and longing rip through you and you pull him closer. His lips are warm and you tilt your head back further letting his tongue sweep through your mouth in velvety arcs. He pushes you against the door, heat radiating off of his body intoxicatingly and you squeeze your eyes closed trying to hold back tears. Desperate for his touch, you don’t stop him when he continues to explore your mouth in what you can only guess is a pity kiss. He rests his forehead against yours as you unclench your fingers from his jacket. “I will see you tomorrow,” he says, clearing his throat and squeezing your side before he leaves. You quickly unlock the door grateful for the barrier. The privacy allows you to unravel as it becomes readily apparent you are coming apart at the seams. 

“Nice dress,” Joaquin goads.

Your eyes snap open and you take a deep breath. “No empiezas,” you warn letting the rush of anger overtake your other emotions.

Joaquin sits with his arm casually draped over the back of the sofa, ankle perched on his opposite knee. “I found a crew. Three teams of ten,” he informs you. “Mostly old friends and some new,” he adds.

“Did you explain the situation?” you ask cuttingly.

“They know what they are getting themselves into,” Joaquin says dismissively. You pace around the living room collecting empty wine glasses. “We have a minor issue,” Joaquin begins.

“What?” you demand.

“Cheryl,” Joaquin states. “There is no way she isn’t going to recognize some of the more familiar faces and start asking questions,” Joaquin cautions.

“Let me handle Cheryl,” you assert, carrying the glasses to the kitchen and setting them in the sink.

Joaquin unwinds himself from the couch and follows you into the kitchen. “Veronica…” he begins, eyes softening as he watches you fumble with the dishes. “Just a little longer,” he encourages wrapping his arms around you from behind resting his head on your shoulder.

_16 Hours_

“Cheryl, thank you so much for coming on such short notice. Can you believe I don’t have anything to wear tonight?” you ask with a laugh. You hold the door open and Cheryl walks into your apartment holding a large garment bag.

“Oh, I can believe it,” she says handing you the garment bag before unshouldering an enormous shopping bag. “Wow, you really went all out,” you say before turning to hang the bag in your closet.

“I assumed the worst,” Cheryl replies following you to the bedroom. With her curled cherry red locks and freshly painted lips, she looks polished in her red cashmere sweater, spider broach and fitted jeans. Clad in your pajamas and a thick oversized sweater, you suppress a smile at Cheryl’s unusual brand of kindness. “I considered a dress, but this is your engagement party, not your wedding,” she says her hands poised over the zipper, arching her brow at you with a serious expression.

“Right. Of course,” you agree anxious for her to continue.

“I picked white, of course, but in lieu of a dress, I thought, jumpsuit,” she says with a bright smile finally unzipping the enormous garment bag. Thin white straps dip into a low V-neck connected to high waisted wide leg trousers creating a billowy, romantic silhouette.

“Cheryl, it is stunning,” you say thoughtfully running your fingers over the silk.

“As if I would ever bring you anything but, V” Cheryl boasts. “I even brought accessories,” she says digging through the enormous shopping bag retrieving a box. Before she can unveil the no doubt gorgeous shoes, you set your hand on the box.

“Cheryl, I need to talk to you about something,” you say earnestly, taking the box gently from her hands and leading her to the kitchen.

“What is it?” she asks crossing her arms over her chest.

You press your lips together, “You might recognize some faces from the old neighborhood tonight,” you confess turning away from her to set the box on the table.

“You invited the Serpents?” Cheryl asks confused.

“Not exactly. They are going to be there as wait staff,” you clarify.

“Veronica, what is going on?” she asks frustrated.

With a sigh you continue, “Cheryl, please. Trust me. You don’t want to know the details. I promise they will not acknowledge you. They won’t even speak to you other than to take your drink order,” you beg.

“You didn’t answer my question. Are you in trouble? Why are those hobos dressing up in tuxedos and passing out hors d’oeuvres,” she bites.

“It is complicated. Cheryl, you stopped being a serpent a long time ago…” you begin.

“And you haven’t?” she fires back.

You take her hands in hers, frustration waring inside of you. “Cheryl. You have already done so much more than you realize. I am just asking you, please, don’t say anything. I would never want anything to tarnish your reputation,” you implore.

“You think I am worried about my reputation! I may not be a serpent anymore, but you are my friend,” she says hurt lacing her words.

“And you are mine. I got this. Trust me, if I needed your archery skills I would tell you,” you say with a smile. Placated, she wraps her arms around you and pulls you into a hug. You close your eyes clinging to the moment of calm and reassurance. “I will not so much as look at those chowderheads,” she says brushing back a piece of hair from your face. “Now tell me, is there anything else I can do to help?” she questions staring into your eyes.

“Just be your beautiful charming self,” you smile.

“Done,” she says with a self-satisfied smile. “Anything for you V,” she says squeezing your hands.

_8 Hours_

Standing in the kitchen of the luxury hotel you survey the Serpents dressed in white button shirts, black bow ties and white tuxedo jackets. As they talk amongst themselves, you stand next to Daddy and cross your arms over your chest. The deep V-neck of the white jumpsuit contrasts your bronzed skin. The material cinches slightly at your narrow waist before cascading down your legs creating an airy yet elegant figure. The only issue was the handgun strapped to your back which you quickly resolved when you slipped on the white cropped leather motorcycle jacket. When Joaquin approaches and nods letting you know the kitchen is secure, you clear your throat preparing to address the group. “Serpents. You have all been briefed and given your assignments. Adam will attempt to gain access to the Winchester family by posing as a member of the wait staff. He should be considered desperate and thus violent. You are to apprehend him quickly, preferably using non-lethal methods. We want this done quietly. I trust you can handle it,” you say voice resounding clearly over the steel appliances. The crowd jostles and shifts some of the gang pulling at their constricting jackets as they murmur incoherently.

“One more thing,” you interrupt. “Cheryl Blossom is a guest at this party. You are not to acknowledge her. You are not to speak to her. You will not imply you have had any association with her,” you order staring at each and every Serpent. “If I find out anyone has treated her differently than any of our other guests, I will remove your Serpent tattoo with a cheese grater,” you say unwaveringly. Shocked by your words, Joaquin’s gaze snaps to yours, but you continue to glare at the men in front of you watching as two familiar faces continue to whisper.

“What was that Fangs?” you ask with an arched brow.

“It has been too long, Veronica. Does this mean the Serpent Queen is back?” he asks with a smirk.

Daddy moves stealthily, standing behind you before resting his hands on your shoulders. “I have a feeling she may have never left Mr. Fogarty,” he says with a chuckle, his voice like steel.

Every cell in your body vibrates with anticipation but you remain unnervingly still. “Joaquin is running point on security. That’s all,” you order before leaving the suffocating room.


End file.
